The New Kid
by BuilderofLostWorlds
Summary: Chelsea Montgomery moved to Shermer a few weeks ago, and has a hard time fitting in. So wrapped up in school work and family, can she finally have some fun? And what will the criminal think of the new girl? OC/John REVISED
1. Monday

Monday

March 20th, 1984

Monday was the worst day of the week. Any teenager in their right mind could attest to that fact. And for Andrew Clark, this started out like any other Monday. His mom knocking on the door to wake him up, and his father screaming up the stairs for him. He had no alarm, because his father was enough to raise the dead. With a groan, Andrew rubbed his eyes, and hauled himself out of bed looking for a clean shirt in the pile on his floor. His mothers light footsteps were fading down the staircase. He was not looking forward to school. Or more accurately, his ride to school. He didn't have a license yet, so his father had to drive him.

Andrew had won his wrestling meet the week before, and spent every minute since regretting it. He wasn't the only kid on the team, but he was the only one that had to wake up at six the next morning for a five mile run. His father was starting to ride him about scholarships, about staying on track and keeping his head in the ring. Andrew was ready to tear his hair out. Stuffing his unfinished homework into his backpack Andrew charged down the stairs into the kitchen. The scent of maple syrup was the strongest pull he knew.

His mother already had a mile high stack of waffles waiting for him. His mom looked so tired. Andrew wanted to tell her to sleep in a little tomorrow, he could get something to eat at school, but his father barged in. His mom instantly rifled through the cupboard for a coffee cup, and before her husband could say a word, had a cup ready for him. Scraping the rest of his waffle through the puddle of sticky syrup on his plate, Andrew shoved it into his mouth and left. His father bungled after him, the weight he gained since high school preventing him from easily passing through the tiny halls. Andrew was all muscle, but could easily slip around the tables and chairs. Shouting back a good-bye to his mother, he jumped into his father's truck.

"Did you finish all your homework?" Father asked him. Andrew nodded stiffly. "Good, can't have ya blowing that scholarship. Remember to talk to that teacher of yours and tell her that you can't see a tutor. You're gonna be too busy with practice."

The rest of the ride continued in the same manner. Dad shooting his mouth off, and Andrew nodding whenever there was a pause. When they pulled up to the school, Andrew shot out of the car before it had fully stopped and speed to the school. He bumped into a girl wearing black, and muttered a, "Sorry," under his breath. His friends were already there, most drove themselves to school. They instantly expanded their circle to include him, and started talking about senseless things until school started. The day dragged by until he hit gym. It was the only time of the day that he was able to lose himself in something senseless and give into his most animalistic senses. He was able to take out all of his aggression on classmates that couldn't protect themselves. All he had to do was protect his knee.

After the teacher called time, Andrew snapped himself out of his trance, and spotted several underclassmen limping to the changing room. Feeling the dull roar of his adrenaline pressing at his ears, he managed to amble in next to his friends. He started changing, slipping a roll of tape onto his wrist so he could tape his knee up before heading to class. He spotted a kid from his math class, the kid that was supposed to tutor him, getting changed. Andrew stared at him, he was misshaped, hairy, the kid that was going to be a dork his whole life. The adrenaline began to pound against his skull again, and his father's stories about his glory days wrapped around him like a noose. Before he could stop himself, Andrew had the dork pinned to the floor, and started to whale on him. The tape around his wrist got stuck to the scrawny teen, and Andrew taped his buns together. His friends were laughing behind him, but Andrew could barely hear them. He couldn't hear the laughter die down, or his friends arms as they pulled him off, he could only feel the hand that slapped him back into high school.

He found himself staring at his gym teacher, and was tugged down to the principal's office. Principal Vernon was him name. Nobody really knew him, because he only knew the kids that were trouble makers.

"Well Mr. Clark," the older man drawled. "I can't say that it's a pleasant surprise to have you in here." Andrew couldn't hear him. All he could think of was Larry. How that dork would have to go home and tell his parents, his father, what happened at school today. His eyes began to sting, but he didn't know why. Andrew could barely hear Mr. Vernon's next words. "Saturday detention. Be here at 7. Get to class."

Andrew could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he left the office but wiped them away before anyone could see. He passed a red head named Claire in the hall, and pulled on a strong face so she wouldn't gossip to her friends. His white sneakers tore down the hall to Physics class.


	2. Tuesday

Tuesday

March 20th, 1984

Tuesday was the worst day of the week in Claire Clark's opinion. The feeling that you had another week of school had just started to sink in, and you realized that you weren't going to have a break until Friday afternoon. And to top it all off, there was a huge sale at Ralph Laurence, and Claire had a Math Test.

Dabbing on the last of her lipstick, Claire fluffed her hair and gave herself a once over in the mirror, before smiling. Grabbing her wallet, she checked to make sure that her father's credit card was still there. Claire walked by the kitchen on her way out, where she could hear her parents hissing at each other, and almost made it to the front door, where her mother stopped her.

"Claire, honey" She tagged on almost as an after thought. "Where are you going, I thought that I was driving you to school today?"

The red head stared at her mother, whose hair was half done, and make up was a mess. She bit back a sneer, but smiled instead and replied, "Don't you remember, mom? Stacy's giving me a ride. We're gonna pick up something to eat on the way." Claire started backing up to the door. "And then we're gonna go to Ralph Laurence after school."

Her mother faltered for a moment, but then she smiled. "Oh, all right then. Air kisses!" Claire blew one half heartedly and scrambled gracefully out of the door. Stacy was already waiting at the end of the driveway,

Claire jumped in the car, and Stacy sped down the road. "Parents call you in sick?"

"They did that?" Claire asked shocked. She still had a lot to learn.

"I have so much to teach you," Stacy drawled. They passed the high school and saw a girl wearing a giant grey sweater and paint splattered jeans walking in. "Oh, my god. Fashion travesty much?"

"Oh my God, I know right?" Claire laughed at the pale girl, hoping that Stacy would drop it. Claire hated teasing people whose name she didn't even know. Thankfully Stacy's next victim was a squirrel that tried to cross the road and barely got away. She was able to vent about it until they got to Starbucks and each picked up their own version of a venti cappuccino. After that it was all giggles and gossip until they reached the mall.

Greeted with the scent of 20 different perfumes, the two laughed maniacally and dived into the junior section. Because school was in session, there were only two or three other people their age in the section, which meant Stacy only got into one fist fight. Claire generally avoided those, seeing as how most girls their age didn't want the pastels and dove for the neons. The girls had a mini fashion show in the changing room to decide on their latest buys. When they cleaned out Ralph Laurence, the two teens stopped by the food court for some lunch.

They spent the next several hours browsing the rest of the mall, discovering several other underground sales that they bled out as well. When their classmates began trailing in, they laughed and went to the movies, to try and waste a few hours and trick Claire's parents into believing that she really did go to school.

The ride home was quick and eventless. The sun had already started to set. Claire was still riding on the euphoria of a perfect day at the mall and the adrenaline from skipping a day of school. Stacy pulled into Claire's driveway and skidded away before she could invite the blonde inside. Sighing, Claire trudged up the steps to the front door, her arms heavy with shopping bags. She noticed a blonde haired boy rounding the corner, arms laden with as many books as she had bags, a small box resting precariously on top. Claire looked away and opened the front door. She was surprised to find her parents on the other side.

"What?" Claire asked. She could feel her face growing hot, and her heart rate speeding up. "Is something wrong?"

"Claire honey," her father asked nervously. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"Uh," She pretended to think for a minute. "I skipped lunch?"

"Guess again," her mother asked, an angry tone seeping into her voice. She cut Claire off as her daughter tried to formulate an acceptable response. "The principal called. How could you do this to me?"

"Mom, you don't understand-" Claire tried to protest, but her mother held up a hand.

"You're grounded."

"That's so unfair! Dad, you can't let her do this!"

Her father looked nervously between the two women. "Maybe it would be best if you went upstairs, honey. Your mother and I will talk about it."

Claire sprinted up the stairs, bags in her arms. Tears were starting to push at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to cry, she wanted to call Stacy, but she couldn't. How could she ever tell Stacy? She would never live it down. Claire slumped against the wall of her room, defeated.


	3. Wednesday

Wednesday

March 21st, 1984

This Wednesday could be the worst, or best, day in Brian Johnson's life. He swatted his hand onto the alarm clock, stopping the blaring alarm clock resting on his bedside table. Swinging long legs over the edge of his bed, Brian wearily rubbed rheum out of his eyes before slowly shuffling to his closet. In the entirety of his bedroom, the closet was the only thing not organized, categorized, or otherwise tidied up.

His fingers rifled through the sweaters, collared shirts and button ups. Every item in the closet had been handpicked by his mother. Except three shirts tucked away in the back corner. Pulling out a black one with Michael Jackson's face screen printed on the front, he lazily pulled it on. His mother would kill him for wearing it to school.

"No regrets, right?" Brian muttered under his breath. Pulling on a pair of new blue jeans, he knelt in front of his bed, and hunching over, stretched an arm into the shadows. His fingertips touched something cool and plastic and he quickly grabbed it, pulling himself up.

A flare gun rested in his hand. He stared for a moment at the bright orange container, wondering if it really would kill him. Or if it would only leave him in a comatose state until he died after years passed.

Brian grabbed his bag as he sprinted out the room, hoping to get out of his house before someone noticed him.

"Brian?" His mother called out to him as he opened the front door. Brian hesitated for a second, and almost turned around, but slammed the door behind him instead. He didn't want to fight with his mother again, especially not this morning. And he couldn't bear the thought of seeing his sister if they were only going to fight. It was better that they remembered him from last night, when the family was watching an old movie and sharing popcorn.

It took him a half hour to walk to school, and he almost got caught going in late. But Brian didn't really care. Which was probably the reason why the new French teacher let him off with a warning. He stuffed the flare gun in his locker, ignoring the elephant lamp at the bottom, deciding that he would do it between classes. Maybe at lunch.

He slid into his first period class just as the bell rang. Brian spent his Latin class glancing at the clock every other second. He could feel a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead. His stomach rumbled suddenly, begging for food, and Brian quickly crossed his arms. The girl sitting in front of him whipped her head around, glaring.

"Sorry," he muttered weakly. "I, uh, skipped-"

But the girl turned around again, her choppy black hair almost hitting his face. Brian groaned. Every day the same thing. The only people in the school that acknowledged his existence were the teachers. His classmates did one of three things: tried to copy his homework, ignored him, or acted as though he didn't exist.

When class ended, Brian skirted by his locker. He could feel a hot sensation growing in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he had to do it today, before school was over. Slowly picking apart his ham and cheese sandwich, Brian wondered where he would do it. The bathroom would be too obvious, the locker room too crowded. He could do it behind the school, where the druggies went. It was secluded, and the area would have to be roped off for a few days, forcing them to find a new place to poison themselves.

"Brian Johnson?" An authoritative voice asked. Turning around, Brian saw Mr. Ryan, the physics teacher. "Come with me."

Brian automatically stood, stumbling slightly. As they left the cafeteria nobody whispered about his retrieval. Nobody wondered where he was going. And Brian was clueless as to why. Why was he being summoned? Was everything alright? Did something happen to his mom?

Mr. Ryan was silent, leading him down the main hallway. Brian felt his breath growing short. They were going to the principal's office. And they would have to walk right by his locker. He couldn't make any reaction. But as they rounded the corner, Brian couldn't hold back a gasp. His locker was in smithereens. Something must've set the flare off. Growing pale, Brian silently ducked into the office.

He sat in a rickety wooden chair silently as Mr. Ryan explained the situation, holding up the remains of the flare gun. Brian felt like he was going to throw up. Principal Vernon slowly flipped through his school records. A member of every academic club, never tardy or absent, Honor Roll every year. Vernon sighed as he set down the file.

"This is your first infraction?" Brian nodded. "I have enough shit to deal with without you. Saturday detention, 7 o'clock." Brian nodded again as he almost ran out of the office, almost running into a tall girl. His eyes flicked over brown curly hair, before he kept running.


	4. Thursday

Thursday

March 22nd, 1984

Thursdays were the worst day of the week. Chelsea Montgomery folded the sheets on her bed into crisp corners. Today was the tantalizing last day before Friday, when you knew that you were home free. And it was just one more reminder of how trapped you were. Sighing, she carefully folded her brown comforter and laid it across the foot of her bed. She still had an hour before school started. Maybe she would get there on time today.

Chelsea slid a black pencil skirt over her long legs as she stepped into a pair of black heels. Deft fingers quickly buttoned up her crisp white blouse, leaving the last one undone. She quickly looked over her collection of hats, before scolding herself. No hats allowed during school hours. Grabbing her backpack, Chelsea left her small white room, and walked to the other end of the hall where her father slept.

She slipped quietly into the messy room, the one part of the house she didn't clean, and opened the blinds. The weak sunlight hit her father and he rolled over in his sleep. Chelsea sighed and kneeled next to his bed. "Dad," She said softly. "It's time to wake up. You're going to be late for work." When she heard his grumbling agreement, Chelsea quickly walked to her brother's room as well.

Ripping open the curtains, Chelsea smiled into the bunk beds. "C'mon sleepy heads! Time to get dressed, I'm making scrambled eggs for breakfast." The younger twin, Michael, shot up, climbing to the top bunk to wake his brother. Chelsea nodded, and scurried down the stairs.

She quickly threw together breakfast, eating with her family as she checked the boys homework with a smile. Their handwriting was getting better.

Chelsea glanced at the clock. "Time to go!" All three children dashed to the bathroom where they brushed their teeth and hair. As the boys tied their shoes, Chelsea grabbed a set of brown paper bags and kissed her father on the cheek as he poured his second cup of coffee.

Five minutes later, Chelsea had buckled her brothers into her fathers pick up truck, placed their backpacks at their feet, and pulled the car out of the driveway. Glancing at the backseats, she sped down the road to the elementary school. It was fifteen minutes away from her own school, but they had cut it so close, there was no traffic.

With a quick, "Love you!" Chelsea sped away from the school, heading to her own. Swinging into the parking lot, she narrowly avoided colliding with a shiny blue Stingray and pulled into a parking spot. She hobbled to the front doors of the school as the second bell rang, cursing her love of high heels. A girl in a long black dress, faded jean jacket and black boots darted into the building as Chelsea approached.

Huffing, she ran into the building a minute later and dashed to her locker. Her ankle almost rolled, but she quickly righted herself. Glancing down the hall, she tiptoed to her locker and quickly shoved in her backpack and jacket. She snatched her Anatomy book and slammed the locker shut, only to find herself face to face with a very stern looking man.

_Uh-oh._

"Who are you?" He barked after a moment of tense silence.

"Who are you?" Chelsea retorted weakly.

"Oh," He groaned. "The new kid. Follow me." He turned around and walked down the hall to the library. "It's time you started to learn the rules around here. As in I'm the Principal, and nobody crosses me."

He opened the door to a room across the library. It was the Principal's office. Chelsea gulped. "And nobody shows up to school late. Sit."

Chelsea sat down in a wooden chair opposite his desk, feeling a hot flush growing in her stomach. "Sir, I just want to say…"

"I don't care." He snapped. "Now, who are you?"

"…Chelsea Montgomery."

A plump assistant rushed into the office. "Sir, we've got a problem."

"What is it now?"

"The faculty bathrooms have flooded."

"What?" The Principal yelled and stood up. He started to charge out of the room. "You need a key to get in there!"

Chelsea sat in the chair, immobile. The Principal poked his head back in the door.

"Saturday detention. Seven o'clock."

Picking up her things, Chelsea sighed and trudged out of the office. She had to walk back by the front doors to get to her homeroom. As she glanced out the window, Chelsea noticed a boy her age walking toward the school.

"He's kinda cute."

"Get to class!" She ran.


	5. Friday

Friday

March 23rd, 1984

John hated Fridays. Sure, he hated school, but he hated being home more. It was a lesser of two evils kind of thing. Dragging out the last of his cigarette, he coughed roughly as he rubbed it out against his nightstand. Piece of shit. Didn't even have a fucking drawer.

He pulled on whatever clothes were closest to the bed, checking to see they didn't smell too bad. His mom promised to do laundry today. Yeah, right. John knew that he'd be running down to the Laundromat tomorrow night with a roll of quarters. Had to, before his classmates started complaining about how much he reeked.

Grabbing his backpack, John staggered down the hall, almost tripping over the remains of a broken vase. He'd have to clean that up after school. Before his dad found out. The fridge was empty except for a carton of eggs and a quart for milk. John sniffed it carefully before shrugging and taking a drink. There was a note stuck on the fridge for him.

Cleaning garage tomorrow. Don't do anything stupid.

Good old Dad.

Crumpling the note, John made sure to let the door slam behind him on his way out. No car, no job, and no fucking way out. The only way he got money was playing pool on the days he ditched. But Tony had been sick the last few days, no business. No skipping today. John would just have to find something else to do. He had to pick the lesser of two evils.

He strolled into school right as the bell rang. Hey, he was actually on fucking time today. That hadn't happened in a while. Strolling over to his homeroom, he yanked a scrawny boy out of his seat in the back row. Mickey, his supplier, grinned from two rows over. John laughed and leaned back. How would he get detention today?

He skipped math. Like was gonna listen to some grandma explain the Pythagorean Theorem to him. Whatever the hell that was. John spent the class holed under a staircase, drawing on the wall. He'd like to see Vernon's face when they find these.

No money for lunch. Like always. Fuck. John headed to the football bleachers for a smoke, but some chick was there. Was she drawing the fucking football field? Who the hell does that?

Spanish was long, boring, and the teacher had it in for him. What a nightmare.

"Hey, John!" Mickey hissed.

"What?"

"Ready for the English test?"

"What English test?" Fuck.

"Macbeth man! The one where everyone dies!"

"That's everything we read moron." Fuck, he was gonna fail. He didn't even care about failing, he was gonna have to sit through a test. "Hey, teach. Can I get a drink?"

"Are you coming back?"

"What?" John backed out of the door, shrugging. "Don't trust me?"

He was gone before she could answer. He ran down the hall and up a flight of stairs. John didn't think anyone wanted to take that test next period. Least of all him. Running to a small red box, he looked down the hall with a grin and flipped the switch. When the alarm went off he could hear several girls shriek in a nearby classroom and started laughing. In a few seconds, the students had flooded the halls, their teachers vainly trying to maintain control.

John was pretty damn proud of himself.

"How did I know?"

Shit.

"Dick! What a nice surprise!" John turned around, grinning from ear to ear.

"And here I was hoping that I wouldn't have to babysit you tomorrow."

"Ah, you know you love it!" John laughed. "I do so value our time together."

"Don't give me that shit."

"Do I offend?"

Vernon glared at the teenager. Damn, he wanted to punch the cocky kid. "Saturday, you know the drill. I gotta round up the teachers. And get to class!"

"Yes sir, Dick!"

Dad or detention?

Which was the lesser of two evils?


	6. Saturday Detention

Saturday

March 24th, 1984.

Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

Dear Mr. Vernon

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, what we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a new kid, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed...


	7. Is This A Test

Saturday

March 24th, 1984

A young woman stood at the edge of an immaculate bedroom. There was a large bookcase arranged by subject and color in one corner. A desk was next to it under a large window. Some textbooks were stacked in a pile by size and several sheets of paper rested in the middle. The bed was small and neatly made, the white sheets tucked in tightly. It almost seemed as if no one lived there. The teenager pulled on a bowler hat and stared at herself in the mirror. After a moment's consideration, her nose wrinkled and she hung it on the hanger behind her. Tugging on a pinstriped fedora, a smile stretched over her face and she nodded. Walking down the empty hall, Chelsea peeked into her brother's room.

Their room was an explosion of action figures and stuffed animals. Ten year old twins were twisted in the sheets of their bunk bed. Their long dark hair hung in front of their closed eyes and their wide mouths hung open, yawns pouring out. Chelsea smiled and straightened out their sheets gently, smiling as Thor and Batman appeared on their sheets. Tiptoeing downstairs, she passed quietly by her father's room and continued into the kitchen. Picking up a leather satchel from the kitchen table she looked into the fridge and groaned.

"Empty," she muttered. "Of all days."

Rifling through a kitchen drawer the teenager pulled out a stack of twenties and held them in her mouth as she rifled through another cabinet. Setting two bowls and a box of cereal on the table she shoved the money into her satchel and went to the front door. She slipped into a pair of black flats as she tugged on her father's trench coat. Chelsea grabbed a set of car keys from the hall table, empty besides a pair of work gloves, and left the house.

Jumping into her fathers 1968 Chevrolet Camaro she quickly pulled out of her suburban neighborhood. Speeding down the highway, Chelsea yanked the window down, her arm aching at the resistance. Icy winds cut into the car and whipped through her hair tangling the long strands into messy curls. Her oversized purple button up reached halfway down her thighs, which kept her legs warm, the trench coat taking care of the rest.

Pulling out a worn pack of cigarettes from her bag she spun it between her fingers expertly before stuffing it back into place. Chelsea sped into the school parking lot behind a beat up gray car and slid into an empty spot. Grabbing her bag Chelsea sighed, before entering the school.

When she first transferred in, Chelsea got lost in the school on a daily basis. But it was half the size of her old school, so she quickly caught on. Now it was a challenge to lose herself. It almost seemed too familiar to her, like there was nothing new to discover.

Making a bee line to the library, Chelsea walked in the open door behind a pale girl in baggy dark clothes, and saw three other people in her grade already sitting behind the desks. Prep, jock, punk, nerd, and the girl she was following was the loner. The perfect mix. Sighing, Chelsea put her bag down in the front desk, and took the jacket off. Draping it over the back of her chair, she straightened out her shirt, and checked the time on the pocket watch hanging around her neck. She tossed her hat onto the desk and shook out her black curls on one side of her head. Chelsea could feel people staring at her again, and sat down, crossing her legs. She was a new face, a novelty for these people. Chelsea pulled a leather bound book out of her bag. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. It was thick and slow reading, but it was the next book for her English class, and she needed to get ahead in her essay.

Then Mr. Vernon, the school principal, came in. Chelsea rolled her eyes, and thumbed to the next page. "Well, well," he said, with such disrespect Chelsea wondered how he ever became Principal. "Here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time."

A pretty red head, sitting in the desk across from Chelsea's raised her hand primly. Without waiting for recognition, she spoke. "Excuse me, sir? I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention, but...um...I don't think I belong in here…" The principal checked his watch and continued talking, unfazed. She scoffed, and sunk back into her seat.

"It is now 7:06, you have exactly 8 hours and 54 minutes to think about why you're here, ponder the error of your ways...," Principal Vernon said. Chelsea heard a spitting noise, and grimaced. She heard the red head gag, and briefly wondered who it was. "And you may not talk. You will not move from these seats." He walked between the rows of desks, stopping in next to the second row and yanked out the chair that the punk had his shoes resting on. "And you will not sleep. Alright people, we're going to try something a little different today. We are going to write an essay. No less than a thousand words. Describing to me who you think you are." Chelsea continued to read, but looked up as a sheet of paper was laid in front of her. Principal Vernon raised an eyebrow and she slowly closed the book.

"Is this a test?" The scruffy teen asked, but he was ignored.

"And when I say essay," Vernon said as the teen put his feet on the table. "I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear Mr. Bender?" he asked. Chelsea filed away the name. Bender. People at Shermer High School either treated her like she had a disease, or ignored her completely. It was time that she learned somebody's name.

"Crystal," Bender said absently.

"Good," he said. "Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you'll even decide whether or not you care to return."

The skinny blonde boy behind Chelsea started to answer Principal Vernon, although his last question was clearly directed to Bender. "Ah, ya, I can answer that right now sir. And that'd be 'no', no for me 'cause-"

"Sit down Johnson," Vernon said to the boy, another name filed away. Chelsea heard a quiet "Thank you, sir," and a chair creak behind her, and she assumed that Johnson did what he was told. "My office," Vernon continued, "is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?" Chelsea raised an eyebrow. Somebody was definitely going to ask a question.

"Yeah," Bender said. "I got a question. Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?" The two kids sitting across from Chelsea stifled snickers. Chelsea laughed and turned, looking at him for the first time, a small smile on her face. He wore a red flannel button-up with a denim jacket over it. His jeans were ripped, and he wore leather gloves, like the ones motorcycle riders wore. He had dark brown hair that fell in a smooth line to his shoulders, with a streak of grey. Brown eyes sparkled mischievously behind the hair, and he winked at Chelsea. She smiled wider, hoping to disguise the blush growing on her face, and turned back around.

"I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Miss Montgomery, you'll be joining him. Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns." Vernon walked out of the open doors. His office was just a little further down the hall, so he couldn't see into the library. Chelsea tossed her book on the desk, and slammed back into her seat with a huff. She knew that her laughter may have been unnecessary, but so was getting another week's worth of detention.

"That man," Bender said when Vernon was far enough away "is a brownie hound." Chelsea smirked behind her black hair. And then there was a clicking noise. For a second, Chelsea was terrified that somebody brought a gun. Maybe it was the anemic looking girl in back that was dressed in black. Chelsea spun around, and saw the girl with her thumb shoved in her mouth, biting at her nail. She sighed and leaned back on the desk, noticing that everyone else was staring at her too. The girl stopped, looked back at the other teenagers, and continued biting her nails.

"You keep eating your hand and you're not going to be hungry for lunch," Bender said. The girl bit her nail one last time and spit it at him. Not that it reached, but she tried. "I've seen you before, you know," Bender said, turning his head to Chelsea. "But I don't know you."

"Well I'm sorry that we can't have a heart to heart right now. But if you excuse me, I need to finish this," She answered, turning back to her paper, and quickly scribbled out an very short essay on being a juvenile delinquent. It wasn't true, but it was exactly what Vernon wanted to hear. Chelsea could hear Johnson muttering to himself about ... being a walrus? She raised her eyebrow, but really, by this point she didn't care. Bender crumpled up his paper and threw it at the redhead. It sailed over her, and she continued ignoring him. Bender started singing some guitar riff, from a song that sounded vaguely similar to Chelsea, but she shrugged and started to scribble absently on her paper. The redhead murmured something but Chelsea ignored her as well.

"So!" Bender called out. There was a moment of silence. Chelsea opened up her book and started to read again. "So, who's the bookworm?"

Chelsea looked up and turned around. Bender was staring her in the eyes, and a shiver went down her spine. The first time she saw him he was just attractive. But now, she felt primal. The realization made a blush crawl up her throat and she turned back around.

"Aw, come on," Bender said. "Nobody knows the bookworm?" Chelsea heard a chair creak and jumped when Bender slid into the chair in front of her. He gave her a crooked grin, and she gulped. "Hello bookworm."

"My name's not bookworm," Chelsea told him.

"Oh?" Bender asked her.

"It's Chelsea," she answered, sitting up a little straighter. "Chelsea Anne Montgomery."

"Chelsea. Anne. Montgomery." Bender enunciated each syllable carefully. "What kind of name is that?"

"Mine," She growled. She loved her name.

Bender scoffed, and gave her a pointed look. "Makes you sound like a princess," he continued with an exaggerated tone, "Your highness."

"Of course," Chelsea laughed. She threw him a salute sarcastically. "Anyone with three such lovely sounding names must be royalty. Could it be any other way? But really, I think we all understand that I'm not the princess of the party."

Bender stared into her eyes with such intensity that Chelsea could either look away, or match it. She chose to lean in, staring at him that same way he was looking at her. Bender smirked. "Are you a virgin?"

"Excuse me?" Chelsea crossed her arms. "Why would my sexual status be of any concern to you?"

"Have you ever been kissed?" He asked her, still boring his eyes into her soul. Chelsea shivered at the memory of her first kiss. It was perfect, but long in the past.

"Are you offering?" She breathed, leaning across the desk, leaving only inches between them. She cocked her head to the side with a confident grin on her face. Bender smirked at her.

Benders eyes snapped open and he sat up. "Oh shit!" Everyone looked at him. Chelsea slowly leaned back, realizing that conversation was over. "What're we supposed to do if we hafta take a piss?!" The red head murmured again. The jock sitting next to her started to look pissed. Haha, funny. "If you gotta go," Bender sat in the chair on the other side of Chelsea's desk and unzipped the fly of his pants. Face flushing, Chelsea quickly looked back at her book. "You gotta go!"

"Oh my god!" The red head cried. Chelsea finally looked at her and noticed what she was wearing. Head to toe Ralph Laurence. There was only one store in town. And diamond earrings, real diamonds. Chelsea could feel her face flooding with the heat of jealously, but quickly shoved it aside as the jock spoke.

"Hey," he growled. "You're not urinating in here man!" Chelsea glanced at the jock. He looked standard blonde hair blue eyes, like a face that she might pass everyday in the hall and miss. Maybe she did. He was wearing a wrestling jersey, and sweats. Even when he was out of the ring, his head was still in the game. Chelsea was somewhat impressed.

"Don't talk! Don't talk!" Bender murmured heatedly in response. "It makes it crawl back up!" Chelsea sighed, screwing her eyes shut. And then it clicked. This was John Bender. There were whispers about him being a criminal. He did drugs, drank, and had rampant sex. Chelsea immediately tried to shut herself off from him. She was not going to become part of his collection of one night stands. But he was so darn cute.

"You whip it out, and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor!" The jock shot back. Bender scoffed at him, and zipped his pants back up. He strode over to the jock, and Chelsea glanced at him over the top of her book.

Bender started teasing the jock, "You know, you're pretty sexy when you get angry. Grr," and then turned to the nerd behind Chelsea. "Hey, homeboy...why don't you go close that door? We'll get the prom queen and the new kid- impregnated!" The red head glared at him.

"You primeval pig!" Chelsea shot at the punk.

"Just imagine it," Bender started to paint a scene. "My arms wrapped around your body…"

Chelsea smirked at the punk. "My fingers wrapped around your throat."

"Hey!" The jock hissed. "Hey!"

Chelsea leaned back as Bender quickly lost interest and began to argue with the jock. She looked at the nerd behind her. She noticed his sweatshirt was on inside out. "Hey," she murmured. He jumped, and looked at her, a little afraid. "What's your name?"

"Brian Johnson," he muttered. Chelsea smiled at him. He was definitely a nerd, but he seemed really nice. Smart people were often either really rude or really nice. Luckily he seemed to be one of the nice ones, and also the tiniest bit naïve. He hesitantly smiled back.

"Do you everyone else's names?"

"Yeah," Brian nodded eager to please now. He started to talk, but was interrupted by Bender.

"Well hey Sporto!" Bender shouted loudly enough to interrupt our conversation. "What'd you do to get in here? Forget to wash your jock?" Chelsea hung her head and sighed.

Brian spoke up then, which surprised Chelsea a little. "Uh, excuse me, fellas? I think we should just write our papers." But they ignored him and kept arguing. Chelsea shrugged at Brian and looked at the girl sitting behind him. She had a giant bag sitting on the desk with the name 'Allison' scrawled onto the strap. The arguing escalated as Bender kept trying to get a rise out of the jock and the prep. And succeeding.

"Hey! What's going on in there?" Vernon screamed down the hall. Everyone momentarily froze, and Allison jumped a little. But after a moment, when they realized Vernon wasn't coming the teenagers slowly began to relax.

"Scumbag," The jock muttered under his breath.

"What do you say we close that door? We can't have any kind of party with Vernon checking us out every few seconds." Bender proclaimed, standing up and moving closer to the door. He jumped up and sat on the guardrail.

Brian tried to argue, "Well, you know the door's s'posed to stay open..." But he slowly trailed off when Bender directed a glare in his direction.

"So what?" Was John's simple answer.

The athlete growled, "So why don't you just shut up! There's four other people in here you know..." He acted as if everyone should be as smart as he was. Like by saying that he was either the smartest man in the world, or Bender was the dumbest. Chelsea wondered about what the redhead had said earlier, and tugged at the safety pins holding together a ripped seam on her sleeve. Did she deserve to be there? Would things be better if they were all in solitary confinement? Probably, but it would be a drag.

Bender looked surprised for a moment, before a dirty smile crossed over his face. His emotions were like a rollercoaster. Maybe he was bipolar, Chelsea mused. "Good, you can count. See! I knew you had to be smart to be a...a wrestler."

"Who the hell are you to judge anybody anyway?" 'Sporto' retorted, seeming somehow displeased that somebody would even dare to one up him.

Queenie murmured lowly, "Really..." But Chelsea still heard it. She shot a glare at her.

The blonde continued, "You know, Bender...you don't even count. I mean if you disappeared forever it wouldn't make any difference. You may as well not even exist at this school."

"Hey," Chelsea said. The jock ignored her. "Hey!" she cried out. When the other students turned to her, she started to talk. "Just because you're a varsity wrestler doesn't mean you get special privileges. And just because the student population is morally bankrupt, it doesn't mean they're blind!"


	8. It'll Be Anarchy

Everyone gaped at her for a moment, and even though her face flushed, Chelsea stood her ground, tilting up her chin defiantly. "Doll face has got a mouth!" Bender eventually murmured.

"Bender," Chelsea shook her head, chuckling. "Didn't we already go over this? My name isn't sweets, or bookworm, or doll face. It's Chelsea." She stood up and started to saunter over to him. She didn't mean to saunter. She really didn't. "So why don't you make something of yourself, before I hafta do it for you?"

But Bender surprised her. "Well… I'll just run right out and join the wrestling team!" His voice dripped with the driest sarcasm Chelsea had ever heard. She took a step back. The redhead and blonde started to laugh. "Maybe the prep club too! Student council!" Chelsea wished that he meant it. Even though she knew that those were not the clubs he should be joining. A flash of him in pumpkin pants flitted through her head, and she grinned.

"No, they wouldn't take you," The blonde said. Chelsea stared at him and noticed the name 'Andy' stitched in on his sweatshirt. Bender gave a face of mock hurt to him. Chelsea turned around and leaned against the rail, next to his legs. He glanced at her, before facing the teenybopper.

"I'm hurt," he said. The prep shot the ceiling a look of disbelief. Chelsea glared at Andy. If he wanted to join an academic club, she wouldn't knock him for it.

The redhead leaned forward, as if she was going to tell some juicy gossip about the girl she despised to her best friend. "You know why guys like you knock everything," she murmured, staring at Bender.

"Oh, this should be stunning," he muttered to himself.

"I'm on the edge of my seat," Chelsea agreed. They gave the girl twin expressions of mock-interest. She continued, undaunted.

"It's because you're afraid, both of you," She leaned back. The prep thought that she was right. Chelsea stared at her for a second in disbelief before laughter spilled out of her mouth. Her body started to shake she was laughing so hard.

"I'm sorry," Chelsea told the redhead. She grabbed onto one of Bender's knees to hold herself up. "But, what are you talking about? You don't even know me! What if someone's mom is dying and they have to go home straight after school, so they can't do any clubs? Or they're a Boy Scout, or a dancer, and have other afterschool things to do, that aren't school sanctioned. Or hey, maybe I'm not doing any clubs because I just moved here! You know, maybe you should try and realize that you aren't as smart as you think you are, and stop trying to shove people into your cookie cutter molds?" Queenie was gaping at her, and Chelsea gave her a devilish smirk.

"I'm in the math club," Brian murmured absentmindedly.

After a moment of flapped her mouth open and closed, the red head tried to salvage what was left of her argument. "No, you're afraid that they won't take you. You don't belong so you just have to dump all over it..." the prep explained to Chelsea and Bender.

"Well...it wouldn't have anything to do with you activities people being assholes...now would it?" Bender questioned the girl. Chelsea pushed off of the guardrail and sat on the chair in front of Andy.

"Well you wouldn't know...You don't even know any of us," She shot back.

"Well, I don't know any lepers either, but I'm not gonna run out and join one of their fucking clubs," Bender responded coolly. Andy looked pointedly away from Chelsea, choosing to focus on the punk standing sitting a few feet away from him instead.

"Hey, let's watch the mouth, huh?" At least Andy had some sort of decency. Bender had no filter and the redhead just said whatever came to mind. Chelsea smiled at him, but Andy looked away again.

Brian started to mutter again, "I'm in the physics club too..." Chelsea glanced at him. He really was a nerd, wasn't he? With a change of clothes he would look normal, just trade the slacks for jeans, and give him some shorter socks. She almost felt sorry for him, knowing that Bender would have something to say about that.

"S'cuse me a sec..." Bender shot to the prep and jock. Looking at Brian he said, "What are you babbling about?"

Brian put his pencil down carefully, and looked at Bender, a little afraid. "Well, what I said was...I'm in the math club, uh, the Latin club and the physics club...physics club." He trailed off, hoping that Bender wouldn't make anything of it.

Bender turned away from Brian, and looked back at the teen in pink, his gaze flickering over Chelsea. "Hey, Cherry," he said, leaning forward. The redhead glared at him, everyone understood the insinuation. "Do you belong to the physics club?"

"That's an academic club," she answered.

"So?" Chelsea told her. At the same time Bender said the same thing. They looked at each other, and Bender winked at her. She chomped her teeth at Bender, a frown on her face. Bender pretended to stagger back, before catching himself. Chelsea couldn't help smiling.

"So academic clubs aren't the same as other kinds of clubs," The prep answered, ruining a small moment.

"Just because you don't go belong to a country club," Chelsea said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "Doesn't mean it isn't a club."

"And to dorks like him," Bender pointed at Brian, speaking in the same tone Chelsea was. "They are. What do you guys do in your club?" Brian told him that they discussed the properties of physics. Which sounded more boring than Pride and Prejudice. "So it's sorta social...demented and sad, but social. Right?"

Brian started going on and on about how it was social in its own sense. They had a party at the end of the year at the Hilton. But he didn't have shoes, so he had to borrow his dads, and his cousin was eating weird food. The prep and Bender made faces at each other under his monologue, and Chelsea tuned them all out. But then Andy jumped in.

"Look, you guys keep up your talking and Vernon's gonna come right in here...I got a meet this Saturday and I'm not gonna miss it on account of you boneheads..." So he was still focused on wrestling. With all the chaos happening there, Chelsea was surprised. And a little jealous, her book was still on the closed on her desk.

Bender let out a moan of fake agony, "Oh and wouldn't that be a bite... Missing a whole wrestling meet!" He grabbed himself like he was going to fall apart. "Hold me, Chelsea! I missed a wrestling meet; I don't know how I'll ever go on!"

Andy called back, "Well you wouldn't know anything about it, faggot! You never competed in your whole life!" Chelsea stood and moved to the front of the room, wordlessly grabbing her book before sitting down. Now who needed to watch their mouth?

Bender gasped with mock hurt, "Oh, I know...I feel all empty inside because of it. I have such a deep admiration for guys that roll around on the floor with other guys!" He gestured with his arms, furiously.

"You'd never miss it. You don't have any goals," Andy dismissed him. Chelsea sighed, scribbling a note in the margin of her book.

"Oh, but I do!" Bender replied.

"Yeah?" Andy asked in disbelief. He knew that Bender was acting, but he couldn't help being interested. Chelsea saw that Bender was he sort of person you secretly always believed in, even if you didn't think so.

Bender started to jab his finger in Andy's face, "I wanna be just-like-you! I figure all I need's a lobotomy and some tights!"

Brian stared at Andy. A little astounded, he asked, "You wear tights?"

"No I don't wear tights, I wear the required uniform..." Andy declared, sitting a little straighter.

"Tights," Chelsea called out, not looking away from her book.

"Shut up!" The jock yelled. Chelsea scribbled another note out in her book and clacked her teeth together. Andy spun in his chair, "I told you to shut up!"

"Did I speak?" Chelsea called back. A shoe scraped against the hall floor, and everyone froze. Vernon was in the hall. Bender jumped into the seat between Queenie and Andy and grabbed a paper, pretending to read over it. The sound of the shoes faded, and Bender jumped up with a 'whoop!' Moving to the front of the library, he passed the desk and ran his hand over it in a familiar fashion.

"You know," Brian called out. "There's not supposed to be any monkey business." He was a spineless brown-nosing little jellyfish. But if Chelsea wasn't terrified of being judged by the others, and getting to be known as a brown noser, she would have said the same thing.

Bender spun around and pointed at Brian. Speaking in a deep, authoritative voice, he said, "Young man, have you finished your paper?" Looking out the door cautiously he drew back and examined the hinges.

"C'mon Bender," Andy told him. "Don't screw around."

"What are you going to do?" The prep asked him.

"Drop dead I hope," Andy muttered. Chelsea stood up and slowly walked forward, trying to get a better look. Bender removed something from the door, and it slammed shut. Chelsea jumped and hopped back into seat. Bender strode back and jumped into his own seat, tossing two screws to Chelsea. Andrew started screaming at the punk to fix the door. Nobody wanted to be blamed for the broken door. Bender shushed everybody a second before Vernon's voice was heard on the other side of the doors.

"God dammit!" He yelled, before shoving one of the doors open. Chelsea struggled for a second to put the screws in the trench coat's pocket, before primly folding her hands on the desk. He stared at everyone accusatorily, pointed at the door he asked, "Why is that door closed? Why is that door closed?" He shouted again when there was no response.

"How're we supposed to know?" Bender asked, staring at his desk. "We're not supposed to move, right?" Vernon was pissed, he moved in front of the redhead.

Staring her down, he asked, "Why?"

She gave him a helpless look, "We were just sitting here, like we're supposed to."

"Who closed that door?" Vernon yelled again, asking Brian this time. He was starting to get angry. Chelsea noticed a vein protrude on his forehead, and smirked.

Vernon stared at Chelsea, who did her best not to squirm. "Why?"

"I don't know sir," She said quickly, mentally berating herself for not having a better response.

"I think a screw fell out of it," Bender called out. He was still staring at his desk.

"It just closed sir," Andy said. He probably just saved Benders ass. Vernon stared down Allison, and asked her who. She squeaked and slammed her head on the desk.

"She doesn't talk, sir," Bender said. Allison gave an agreeing squeak. Vernon moved in front of Bender.

"Give me that screw," He growled, staring down the punk.

Bender stared up at him, "I don't have it."

Vernon flipped a chair over. Chelsea's eyes snapped open as he started to scream at Bender, "You want me to yank you outta that seat and shake it outta you?"

"I don't have it," Bender responded, as cool as ever. "Screws fall out all of the time, the world's an imperfect place." Vernon yelled at Bender to give the screw to him again. Chelsea jumped in her seat. Her hand started to fish in her jacket pocket. Just give him the screws, say it's your fault, and get him to leave Bender alone. Take the heat, and you'll survive. Bender saw what she was doing and glared at her. But queenie spoke up.

"Excuse me sir," She started. "But why would anybody want to steal a screw?"

"Watch it young lady," He told her. The redhead and Bender made a face at each other. Vernon looked back at the door. Grabbing a folding chair, he stood outside and wedged it carefully in place.

"The doors way too heavy, sir," Bender said, as Vernon released the chair. The chair immediately shot out of view as the door swung shot. Principal Vernon swore on the other side of the door loudly. Chelsea put her hand over her mouth, hoping to stifle a laugh. But a pearl of laughter slipped through, and glancing back, she saw Allison smiling at the door.

Principal Vernon came into the library. Pointing at Andy he started snapping his fingers, "Andrew Clark...get up here. Come on, front and center, let's go." Andrew sighed, got up and walked over to Vernon. Principal Vernon began directing Andrew to grab a magazine rack.

Bender yelled at Principal Vernon, "Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy!" Andrew and Vernon were struggling to put the rack in the door, and hold it open. "It's out of my hands." Bender sighed and raised his hands. Leaning back, he put his hands behind his head and looked at Chelsea. She was still reading that book, and writing in the margins. Looking back, he noticed the magazine rack blocked the whole doorframe. "That's very clever sir, but what if there's a fire? I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children would be unwise at this juncture in your career."

Vernon looked from Bender back to the magazine rack, and considered what he said. He turned angrily to Andrew, who was trying to figure out how to get back into the library. "Alright, what are you doing with this? Get this outta here for God's sake! What's the matter with you? Come on!"

Brian pointed at the front and back at the library, "You know the school comes equipped with fire exits at either end of the library."

Chelsea giggled a little at the nerd. Bender whipped around in his chair and said, "Show Dick some respect!" Several more pearls of laughter slipped between Chelsea's lips. Andrew and Vernon were struggling to put the magazine rack back, the door shutting with a final clank. The principal shooed Andrew back to his desk, saying that he expected more from a varsity letterman. He yelled at Bender next, threatening to knock some screws out of him next.

Bender murmured something unintelligible under his breath. He leaned back in his chair, still looking downward.

Vernon marched to Bender's chair. "What was that?"

"Eat. My. Shorts" Bender enunciated each word, louder this time.

Vernon jabbed a finger at Bender, "You just bought yourself another Saturday, mister!"

"Oh, I'm crushed..." Bender muttered, looking down. Chelsea closed her book and stared at Bender. What the hell was he thinking? This wasn't going to change anything.

"You just bought one more right there!" Vernon was growing excited. This was obviously what he lived for. Chelsea cringed; Bender was going to get more than he bargained for. Was there a reason he wanted to be stuck here?

Bender leaned forward, "Well, I'm free the Saturday after that...beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar!"

Vernon pointed back at the teenager and responded, "Good! Because it's gonna be filled, we'll keep goin'! You want another one? Say the word, just say the word! Instead of going to prison, you'll come here! Are you through?"

Bender had been glancing in any direction but Vernon's but it seemed like almost after a moment's consideration, he looked back at Vernon and said, "No!"

"I'm doing society a favor!" Vernon yelled back at Bender.

"So?" Bender asked, his arms crossed.

"That's another one, right now! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch your step! You want another one?" Vernon kept jabbing his finger at Bender. This was moving beyond rebellion. He wanted out of something. He wanted to be at school for the next month and a half. But for the life of her, Chelsea couldn't understand why.

"Yes!" Bender told him.

"You got it! You got another one, right there! That's another one pal!" Vernon was starting to get even more excited.

The prep looked at Bender. All of the teenagers had their eyes glued to the conversation, but she cried, "Cut it out!" Bender looked at her, and she mouthed the word, "Stop".

"You through?"

"Not even close, bud!" Bender growled.

"Good! You got one more, right there!"

"Do you really think I give a shit?"

"Another..." Bender glared at him. Chelsea started to clutch at her book, her knuckles whitening. "You through?"

"How many is that?" Bender asked. Was he trying to keep out of his house for some certain amount of time? Chelsea wanted to throw her book at Vernon, but knew with that one action she would be in deeper shit than Bender.

Brian decided to jump in and help out, "That's seven, including the one when we first came in and you asked Mr. Vernon here whether Barry Manilow knew that he raided his closet."

Vernon looked at Bender, "Now it's eight..." He threw a glance back at Brian. ""You stay out of it!"

"Excuse me, sir, it's seven!" Brian replied, holding up several of his fingers. He didn't realize that he gave Bender a detention because of his last comment.

"Shut up, Peewee! You're mine Bender...for two months. I gotcha! I gotcha!" Vernon was moving closer to the door, giving Bender the horns.

"What can I say? I'm thrilled!"

Vernon stopped and pointed at Bender, who began to fidget slightly in his seat, "Oh, I'm sure that's exactly what you want these people to believe. You know something, Bender? You ought to spend a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people. You might be better off. Alright, that's it! I'm going to be right outside those doors. The next time I hafta come in here...I'm cracking skulls!" Bender mouthed, "Cracking skulls!" as Vernon said it. Chelsea wanted to smile at that, but a heartbreaking expression was threatening to show in her face.

Vernon left the library, and as the door slammed behind him Bender yelled, "Fuck you!" When everyone realized that Vernon wasn't coming back inside he murmured, "Fuck."

Chelsea stared at the punk, simmering in his seat, and forced herself to look away. Whatever he had done that for was his problem, and she had no right to go snooping around in his business. She looked into her book blankly for a few seconds, before realizing that she was still reading the same sentence. Closing it momentarily, she stared at the door before opening her book again with a sigh.


	9. A White Wedding

When Chelsea looked up a half hour later, it was only because she could smell burning rubber. Turning to the side, she noticed that Bender had lit his shoe on fire. Rifling through her satchel, Chelsea pulled out a cigarette from the worn packet and walked over to Bender.

"Give a girl a light?" She asked. Smirking, he ever so slightly nodded his head and Chelsea bent over sucking on the cigarette as she waited for it to light. After a moment, she straightened up, exhaled a plume of smoke and smiled at the punk before returning to her seat.

The prep was staring into space, an absentminded expression on her face. She was dreaming. Brian started tugging at his pants, staring at queenie, so he threw his hat on the crotch of his pants. Andrew was tugging the string of his sweatshirt back and forth, acting as if each string was trying to sneak up on him. Bender snuffed out the fire growing on his shoe. Chelsea put out her cigarette on the underside of the chair. Allison tied a string around her finger, wincing as it turned purple. Bender played a guitar rift, cigarette in his mouth. Allison had started a new drawing, this time on her desk, of a snowy road. Andrew then shot a paper football between his fingers and silently cheered. Chelsea finished her book, and began to outline an essay on the back of her paper for Vernon. Allison shook the dandruff from her hair onto the desk, for snow in her picture. She smiled. Chelsea leaned on her arms, making a half hearted attempt to stay awake. Everyone was starting to doze off.

Chelsea didn't even hear Vernon come into the library until he yelled, "Wake up!" But she was so close to being asleep, she didn't even stir. But when he growled, "Who has to go to the lavatory?" everyone shot up their hands.

By ten twenty-two, all of the boys were out of their seats, and Chelsea was sitting in the chair in front of the prep's desk again. Bender was sitting on the railing a book in his hands. Andrew was stretching his legs on the railing and Brian stood at the fringe, trying to be part of the group. Bender was ripping pages from the book and throwing them around the library.

Andrew looked up at Bender. "That's real intelligent."

Bender stared him down, "Oh yeah, It's wrong to destroy literature." Chelsea glared at Bender. Of course it was. If she wasn't trying to subtly impress him, she would've ripped the book from his hands the moment he ripped the first page. As he continued to rip the pages, he looked at Andrew and said, "It's such fun to read. And…Mol-yay really pumps my nads."

Chelsea closed her book and said, "It's Molière. He was a French playwright, and an actor." She spoke over the prep, who also told Bender how to pronounce the authors name. Bender stared at the other girl who bit her lip at him, smiling. He then looked at Chelsea, who gave him a full smile, unrestrained.

"I love his work," Brian said. Bender ripped several more pages, and threw them at Brian, who ducked behind a pillar. The redhead smirked and looked back at her desk. Bender tossed the rest of the book onto the bookshelf he was sitting on and grabbed a card catalogue drawer.

"Big deal," He said, adjusting the drawer on his lap. "Nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy."

"Aw, speak for yourself," Andrew told him.

"Do you think I'd speak for you?" Bender replied. "I don't even know your language!"

"What was that?" Chelsea asked with a teasing tone. "I didn't understand."

Bender glared and threw a handful of cards at her. She gasped as they slapped her in the face. As Chelsea looked over to him, what might have been a shocked expression was now a feline grin.

"Did I hurt the newbie?" Bender asked in a condescending tone.

"You jerk!" Chelsea cried, rubbing her face gently. "You hit me in the eye!"

"Poor kid," he mocked.

Chelsea growled and whipped the cards back at the criminal. He laughed as he slapped them away.

Andrew turned around and looked at the prep, "Hey, you grounded tonight?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, my mom said I was but my dad told me to just blow her off."

Andrew continued as Bender began to angrily rearrange the cards. "Big party at Stubbies, parents are in Europe. Should be pretty wild..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, can you go?"

"I doubt it..."

"How come?"

The teen looked at Chelsea, then at her desk, "Well 'cause if I do what my mother tells me not to do, it's because my father says its okay. There's like this whole big monster deal, it's endless and it's a total drag. It's like any minute... divorce..."

Bender stopped for a second flipping through the card catalogue and asked her, "Who do you like better?"

"What?" She asked. Chelsea bit her lip as she turned a page.

"Do you like your old man better than your mom?" Bender asked.

"They're both strict," She answered.

"That isn't what he asked," Chelsea interjected. "He means if you had to choose, which one would you pick?" She looked at Bender. "Right?" The teen nodded; there was a little twinkle in his eyes.

The girl shrugged again. "I dunno, I'd probably go live with my brother. I mean, I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me...it's like they use me just to get back at each other."

"Ha!" Allison cried. Everyone stared at her. Chelsea and Andrew were both smiling. It was the first thing resembling a word she had said all day. Allison blew some hair out of her face with an air of finality.

"Shut up!" Queenie told her.

"That was a little late," Chelsea murmured.

"Shut up!" The teen yelled at Chelsea. She glanced at the red head and shrugged, leaning back in her seat.

"You're just feeling sorry for yourself," Andrew told the prep.

"Yeah, well if I didn't nobody else would." She told him.

"Aw...you're breaking my heart..." Andrew told her. Chelsea smiled. He was becoming less and less sympathetic to the Cherry with each passing second.

"Sporto..." Bender started.

"What?"

Bender threw a chunk of cards behind him, and jumped off the railing. "You get along with your parents?"

"Well if I say yes, I'm an idiot, right?"

Bender hopped over the other railing. He stared down at Andrew. Chelsea noticed for the first time that Bender was a few inches taller than the jock. "You're an idiot anyway...But if you say you get along with your parents well you're a liar too!" Bender walked away, moving over to the other side of the room.

Andrew followed him, and stopped Bender in the aisle. "You know something, man...If we weren't in school right now, I'd waste you!"

Bender pointed his middle finger at the floor. "Can you hear this? Want me to turn it up?" He rotated his wrist so that he was giving Andrew the bird. Chelsea giggled and leaned in to whisper to the girl sitting in front of her.

"That isn't how you flip someone off," Queenie gave her a questioning look and Chelsea assumed that the prep wanted her to elaborate. "Whenever you give someone the bird, act like you mean it. None of this flimsy stuff. And sure, we all do it our own way, but c'mon, let's at least look like we mean it."

Brian came over. Putting a hand on each of the teens shoulders, he said, "Hey fellas,-" But they both slapped his hand away at the same time. "I don't like my parents either," Andrew pushed past Brian, who decided to focus on Bender. "I don't, I don't get along with them...their idea of parental compassion is just, you know, wacko!"

Bender turned to Brian. "Dork?" Brian acknowledged him. He let himself be known as a dork. To be called a name was one thing, but to accept the name completely was a whole other world. He started to pat Brian on the arm so hard that he had to sit down. "You are a parent's wet dream," He said simply. Bender started to walk away. Andrew was sitting on a desk in the back.

"Well, that's the problem," Brian told Bender.

Bender stopped walking and slowly turned around. "Look, I can see you getting all bunged up for them making you wear these kinda clothes. But face it, you're a Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie! What would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?" The redhead and Chelsea both watched the scene. The prep seemed to be fascinated by the punk, and Chelsea was wondering why she was attracted to such an aggravating human specimen.

"Why do you have to insult everybody?" Andrew asked Bender.

Bender shifted slightly, as if unsure what to do. Looking at Andrew, he told him, "I'm being honest, asshole! I would expect you...to know the difference!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Andrew. Brian was staring at the floor.

"Yeah, well he's got a name," Andrew told Bender.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Andrew said. He looked at Brian, "What's your name?"

"Andrew," Chelsea said. He looked over at her. "His name is Brian. Please try and make a point you can prove." Andrew glared at her, so she returned the favor.

Bender walked back to the front of the room. "My condolences," he told Brian. He moved to the front of the room again, probably to sit on the rail. His perch.

"What's your name?" The redhead asked him.

He stopped and stared at the red head. "What's yours?"

"Claire."

"Claire?" He asked, over-enunciating the name.

"Claire, it's a family name," the prep responded.

"No," Bender told her. "It's a fat girl's name." Chelsea smiled at the punk and moved back to her desk, where she pulled a notebook out of her purse. She tried to start on an essay, but ended up doodling in the margins as she listened to the conversation.

"Thank you," Claire told him.

"You're welcome," Bender replied, probably thinking she meant it. Possibly realizing that she was being sarcastic.

"I'm not fat." Claire shot to the punk.

"Well not at present, but I could see you really pushing maximum density! You see, I'm not sure if you know this...but there are two kinds of fat people. There's fat people that were born to be fat, and then there's fat people that were once thin but they became fat...so when you look at them you can sorta see that thin person inside! You see, you're gonna get married, you're gonna squeeze out a few puppies and then, uh..."He mimed becoming fat, making noises. Claire gave him the finger. "Oh...obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!"

"I'm not that pristine!" Claire told him. Chelsea smirked at the sight of Claire flipping Bender off. Did she teach that girl nothing?

Bender leant in, staring Claire in the eyes. "Are you a virgin?" Chelsea felt a chill go up her spine at the apathy in his eyes. She wanted to see Claire's face, but at the same time felt a tremendous wave of pity wash over her for the girl. "I'll bet you a million dollars that you are! Let's end the suspense! Is it gonna be...a white weddin?"

"Why don't you just shut up?" Claire asked. She was getting upset.

"Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?" Bender asked her lowly. Claire's shoulders sunk a bit, and tears were pushing at the back of her eyes. "Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?

"Do you want me to puke?" Claire asked him quietly. She was trying to put on a brave front, and avoid the questions. But the punk was smashing her wall down with a crowbar.

Bender kept staring at her. He began to examine her, as if trying to imagine what could be. "Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?"

"Leave her alone!" Andrew called to Bender. Bender looked around Claire at the blonde teenager, before staring the red head down. "I said leave her alone!"

"You gonna make me?"

"Yeah..."

Bender jumped on the desk, walked over it, and then over to Andrew. He stared the jock down. "You and how many of your friends?"

"Just me, just you and me. Two hits. Me hitting you, you hitting the floor! Anytime you're ready, pal!"

Bender snorted in amusement and moved his arm up, tapping Andrew on the cheek mockingly. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the athlete to quickly take a hold on his arm, grabbing the other one as well, and pinning them both to his back, forcing the criminal face-first to the ground. The jock kept his arms pinned, one of his own across Bender's back in order to keep the struggling boy down. But he couldn't get Andrew off of him. "I don't wanna get into to this with you man..." he said to the floor.

Andrew pushed off of Bender, seamlessly propelling himself up. "Why not?"

Bender got up and in a matter of fact way told Andrew, "'Cause I'd kill you...It's real simple." He started backing up until he was standing several feet behind him. "I'd kill you and your fucking parents would sue me and it would be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother."

"Chicken shit..." Andrew turned away and reached into his bag.

Bender pulled out a switchblade, flipping it open. Andrew turned around at the noise. Bender stabbed the switchblade into the back of a chair next to Allison, after a long moment spent staring the other teen down.

"Let's end this right now," Andrew told him. Allison reached over and grabbed the switchblade, stuffing it into her purse while Bender was distracted. "You don't talk to her...you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?"

Bender changed his weight and said very simply, "I'm trying to help her." Everyone stared at him for a moment. A janitor opened the library door, and Bender moved to the front of the library, slamming his body into the seat next to Chelsea.

A janitor walked into the library office and grabbed a trash bin. There was music playing from a walkman on his trash bin. He looked vaguely familiar to Chelsea. Noticing the kids sitting in the library he looked at Brian and smiled, "Brian, how you doing?"

Brian nodded a little and shrunk into his seat. "Your dad works here?" Bender asked him. The janitor stared at Bender. Brian shook his head a little, and everyone gave him a little smile of pity. Being friends with the janitor. "Uh, Carl?"

"What?" The janitor asked.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure..."

"How does one become a janitor?" Bender asked him very seriously.

Carl gave him a look of disbelief. Chelsea realized where he had seen him before. He was one of the faces from the Student of the Year wall. How did he end up as a janitor? "You wanna be a janitor?"

"No, I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor because Andrew here, is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts..." He pointed at Andrew as he spoke.

"Oh, really? You guys think I'm just some untouchable peasant, serf, peon? Huh?" He asked them. Everyone fidgeted a little. "Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for the past eight years I've learned a couple of things...I look through your letters, I look through your lockers..." Bender was flipping through Pride and Prejudice absently. But at the last comment, he stared at Carl. "I listen to your conversations, you don't know that but I do...I am the eyes and ears of this institution my friends." Carl checked his watch, before looking at the library clock. "By the way, that clock's twenty minutes fast."

Everybody moaned, looking at each other. Chelsea couldn't see, but imagined Bender was smiling. "Shit!" Andrew groaned.


	10. What About You

Chelsea rested her head on the desk, stealing a few moments sleep before she jerked awake at eleven thirty. Rubbing her eyes, Chelsea looked around her bored classmates and slumped back into her seat. Bender had his scarf tied around his head and started to whistle a marching tune. Everybody slowly joined in. The tune was familiar even if Chelsea couldn't remember what it was from. She really needed to study her music. Vernon entered and the whistling quickly died out. Bender looked down and whistled Beethoven's fifth.

Vernon examined everyone's faces, "All right girls, that's thirty minutes for lunch..."

"Here?" Andrew asked, in disbelief.

"Here..."

"Well I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place for us to eat lunch in, sir!"

"Well, I don't care what you think, Andrew!"

"Uh, Dick? Excuse me, Rich...will milk be made available to us?" Bender was trying to be polite, while simultaneously as rude as possible.

"We're extremely thirsty sir..." Andrew chimed in.

"I have a really low tolerance for dehydration." Claire decided to help.

"I've seen her dehydrate sir, it's pretty gross." Andrew said. Claire shot Andrew a gaze. She knew he was validating his point, but was still mildly insulted.

Bender started to stand up. "Relax, I'll get it!"

"Ah, ah, ah grab some wood there, bub!" Vernon said. Bender smiled, and sat down. He started to nod, agreeing with what Vernon was saying. "What do you think, I was born yesterday? You think I'm gonna have you roaming these halls? You!" He pointed at Andrew. Andrew pointed to Claire, trying to get Vernon to pick her. Claire straightened up slightly. "And you! Hey! What's her name? Wake her! Wake her up! Hey, come on, on your feet missy! Let's go! This is no rest home!" Allison grabbed her bag, and stood. "There's a soft drink machine in the teacher's lounge. Let's go!"

Vernon led the other two out into the hall, and went into his office. Everybody stared at each other when the door slammed. Brian started snapping his fingers, but stopped when he realized that no one was joining in. Claire pulled a compact out of her purse, and re-applied her lipstick. Chelsea put her book and notebook away in her satchel and jumped up. Walking to the back of the library, she ran her fingers over books that hadn't been checked out in years.

Sitting in front of a computer, Chelsea tried to start it up, but it wasn't working. Sighing she leant back and traced the scratches in the desk it previous occupants had left behind. Bender came over. He randomly snagged a book off one of the shelves from the medical section and jumped up on the bookshelf next to her. After a few minutes Claire waltzed over. Chelsea glanced at her, glaring slightly. Claire leaned on the abstract statue a few feet away from the group. She started moving around it absent-mindedly, as if she was dreaming.

Bender was staring at her. "Claire...you wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitus of the nuts? It's pretty tasty..."

Claire grimaced. "No thank you..."

"How do you think he rides a bike?" Bender wondered aloud. Claire rolled her eyes and turned away in disgust. Chelsea groaned in distaste. "Oh, Claire...would you ever consider dating a guy like this?"

"Can't you just leave me alone?" she pleaded.

"I mean if he had a great personality and was a good dancer and had a cool car..." Bender continued. He paused for a second and re-examined the picture. "Although you'd probably have to ride in the back seat 'cause his nuts would ride shotgun."

Claire turned again and looked at Chelsea. She asked her, "You know what I wish I was doing?" Chelsea was surprised but shrugged.

Bender chose that moment to jump in. "Oh, watch what you say, Brian here is a cherry."

"A cherry?" Brian asked. He couldn't possibly be so dense.

"I wish I was on a plane to France." Claire continued.

Chelsea turned away as she heard the computer whir to life. Playing a game of tic-tac-toe, she tried to distract herself from the boys behind her. She was soon able to immerse herself in the technology. "Oh, you and Claire, did it!" Bender said loudly.

Claire turned to the boys at the sound of her name. Chelsea turned as well. "What are you talking about?"

Brian looked at Claire, a little afraid, "Nothin', nothin!" He looked at Bender. "Let's just drop it; we'll talk about it later!"

"No! Drop what, what're you talking about?" Claire said.

"Yeah," Chelsea chimed in. "Why can't we talk about it now?"

Bender stared at Claire. "Well, Brian's trying to tell me that in addition to the number of girls in the Niagara Falls area, that presently you and he are, riding the hobby horse!"

Claire made a face at Brian. "Little pig!" Chelsea raised her eyebrows. She only knew the guy for a few hours, but it didn't sound like something that he would say.

"No I'm not! I'm not! John said I was a cherry and I said I wasn't, that's it, that's all that was said!" Brian was pointing frantically at himself, trying to prove his innocence.

Bender pointed at Claire, "Well then what were you motioning to Claire for?"

"You know I don't appreciate this very much, Brian." Claire told him. Chelsea sighed, and shook her head. Bender had a way with words, all right.

Brian jabbed a finger at Bender. "He is lying!"

"Oh you weren't motioning to her?" Bender said, motioning to the girl. Claire looked at Chelsea helplessly. She shrugged in return.

"You know he's lying, right?" Claire looked back and forth between the two boys, unsure of who to trust. "Yeah, but it was only...was only because I didn't want her to know that I was a virgin, okay?" Bender just stared at Brian. "Excuse me for being a virgin, I'm sorry..."

Claire smiled at him and moved closer. Chelsea leaned back, smiling between the two. Claire sat on the edge of a desk. "Why didn't you want me to know you were a virgin?"

"Because it's personal business, it's my personal, private business."

Bender looked down at Brian. "Well Brian, it doesn't sound like you're doing any business..."

"I think its okay for a guy to be a virgin..." Claire said. Chelsea nodded in agreement. Bender stared at the two girls, barely masking amazement under anger.

"You do?" Brian asked, surprised. Claire glanced at Bender, taking in the expression on his face before smiling at Brian with a nod. Bender sighed and sat back. Chelsea glanced at Bender and smiled.

Andrew and Allison came into the library, empty-handed. Chelsea walked back to the front of the room, stopping by her own desk to grab her lunch bag before sitting in front of Andrew. Allison reached into her purse and pulled out six cans of Coke. Chelsea smiled at her and grabbed one.

Andrew and Claire sat in their seats on either side of Chelsea. Bender pulled up his seat in front of Chelsea. Claire pulled a silver shopping bag on the desk and started pulling out a bento box set. Chelsea saw the set and smiled at Claire. But Claire didn't notice.

"What's in there?" Bender asked her.

"Guess," She told him sarcastically.

"Where's your lunch?" Chelsea asked him.

"You're wearing it..." Bender growled. Chelsea blushed and looked back in her bag.

Claire muttered, "You're nauseating..."

Bender grabbed a Coke and tossed it over his shoulder to Allison. She caught it without looking up. Bender watched as Claire open the bento box, and poured herself a small dish of soy sauce.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Sushi..." Claire said simply.

"Sushi?"

"Rice, uh, raw fish and seaweed." Claire laughed a little. She exchanged a look with Chelsea, who smiled back. The boys were staring at each other, surprised.

Bender looked confused. "You won't accept a guys tongue in your mouth and you're gonna eat that?"

"Can I eat?" Claire asked.

"I don't know..." Bender said, uncertain. "Give it a try..."

Andrew pulled out a giant bag of crinkly chips from his paper bag. Chelsea stared at him, as he pulled out three sandwiches, a bag of cookies, a quart of milk, a banana and an apple. He scooted his chair in and got ready to eat. Chelsea shook her head and pulled her own bag onto the desk. Thankfully, she was smart enough to pick up something after school the day before. She fished out an Italian sandwich wrapped in parchment paper. She then pulled out a small bag of chips and a bar of chocolate. Chelsea also pulled out a banana, which she stared at for a second before stuffing in the bottom of her bag. Opening the Coke, she took a giant gulp, and nearly gagged. Chelsea only drank Coke when she went out. Which she hadn't in the past six weeks.

Allison opened her Coke, which fizzed over. She slurped up everything that spilled and licked her fingers. Andrew opened his first sandwich and noticed Chelsea, Bender and Claire staring at him. "What's your problem?" He asked. Chelsea quickly looked back at her sandwich and said a quick prayer before digging in.

Allison opened her sandwich and made a face at the pastrami. She tossed it over her shoulder, where it landed on the top of the sculpture. Allison opened several Pixi Stix and poured the sugar on the slices of bread. All of the teens were starting to stare at her. She took a bag of Captain Crunch and began to shove handfuls of the cereal into the sandwich. She crushed the sandwich together and loudly took a bite.

Bender stood up and sat next to Brian. He grabbed Brian's bag and handed him a Coke. "So, what're we having?" He asked, in a cordial tone.

"Uh, it's your standard, regular lunch I guess..." Brian told him, a little confused.

Bender reached into the paper bag and pulled out the first thing his fingers touched. A thermos. "Milk?"

"Uh, soup," Brian answered. Bender started to fish around in the bag again. Brian reached over to it, but the other teen smacked his hand away. Bender pulled out a small box, a little bigger than a pack of cigarettes and stared at it for a second, the tiniest smile on his face. "Apple juice."

"I can read," Bender told him. "PB & J with the crusts cut off...Well Brian, this is a very nutritious lunch, all the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?" He asked with a condescending tone.

"Uh no," Brian answered honestly. He was so naïve it was a little sad. "Mr. Johnson."

Andrew exchanged a smile with Claire and Chelsea. Bender stood up and moved into the aisle. "Here's my impression of life at big Bri's house... (in a loud and friendly voice) Son! (in a kiddie voice) Yeah Dad? (loud) How's your day, pal? (kiddie) Great Dad, how's yours? (loud) Super, say son, how'd you like to go fishing this weekend? (kiddie) Great Dad, but I've got homework to do! (loud) That's alright son, you can do it, on the boat! (kiddie) Geee! (loud) Dear, isn't our son swell? (quiet and motherly) Yes Dear, isn't life swell?" Bender mimed Mother kissing Father and then Father kissing Mother. He then had Father punching Mother in the face. Everyone had been smiling until a certain moment, then it wasn't so funny anymore. Brian sunk into his seat, more embarrassed than when Carl came in.

Andrew stared at Bender, "All right, what about your family?"

"Oh, mine?" he pointed at himself. "That's real easy." He straightened up and readjusted himself. He positioned his hand as if he was holding a bottle of beer. "(as his father) Stupid, worthless, no good, God damned, freeloading, son of a bitch,. Retarded, bigmouth, know it all, asshole, jerk! (as his mother) You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful-" Bender slammed his hand back to slap his invisible mother. "(as his father) Shut up, bitch! Go fix me a turkey pot pie!" He started speaking as himself, angrier and angrier as he argued with his 'father.' "What about you Dad? (as his father) Fuck you! (as himself) No, Dad, what about you? (as his father) Fuck you! (as himself-yelling) No, Dad, what about you? (as his father-yelling) Fuck you!" He slapped a hand in the air and recoiled.

Brian straightened up. "Is that for real?"

"You wanna come over some time?" Bender deadpanned. Brian shook his head and shrunk into his seat a little.

"That's bullshit. It's all part of your image, I don't believe a word of it." Andrew told him.

Bender actually looked offended. "You don't believe me?"

"No."

"No?"

"Did I stutter?" Andrew asked the criminal. Bender marched over to Andrew and pulled his sleeve up to the crook of his elbow. Chelsea immediately noticed a circular burn mark on his arm. It was about the size of a quarter. She wanted to look away but a sick fascination kept her eyes glued in place. Her fingers ached to trace the scar.

"Believe this? Huh? It's the size of a cigar...Do I stutter? You see, this is what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage." Andrew and Claire looked away uncomfortably, but Chelsea couldn't tear her eyes away from the boy. He shoved his sleeve down and backed up. "See I don't think that I need to sit here with you fuckin' dildos anymore!"

He walked over to a table with maps on it and hesitated for a moment, before flinging all of the maps off the top. He yelled and climbed on top of the table, pulling himself on the stairs, where he sat to sulk.

"You shouldn't have said that," Claire told Andrew.

"How was I supposed to know?" He asked her. "He lies about everything else anyway."

Andrew looked over at Chelsea, who gave him a look of pure disappointment. Standing up she moved to the staircase, and carefully started up. The library was fairly old, but the carpet was still thick, so he didn't turn around as she came closer.

Slinging her legs over the edge of the landing, Chelsea glanced at the lanky teenager. "So," she started out lightly. "Wanna get outta here?"

Bender stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"See the world?" she joked. When Bender glared, she lightly nudged his shoulder. "Joking! I was joking! Do you wanna go to your locker?"

Bender stared at her for a second before smirking. "And why would I need to go there?"

"'Cause you got awfully scared when Carl threatened to clean out your locker," Chelsea smiled at the punk. "Do we need to go on a recon mission?"

Bender stood up. "Sure," he drawled. "If that's what the bookworm wants. Let's round up Mystery Inc."


	11. Becoming John

Bender strolled down the staircase, bumping into Chelsea every other step. She bumped him back, just a little harder. The continued bumping into each other until they rounded the corner and the other students could see them. Both teenagers took a step away from the other. Chelsea gave Bender a guilty smile, but he was still staring straight ahead. The two moved straight to the door, Chelsea giving a faraway glance back to the other students, who cautiously followed them out. The teenage boy checked outside, and the group of teenagers left the library. Chelsea remained close behind the punk, trying to remain aloof.

"How do you know where Vernon went?" Claire asked him.

"I don't," Was his blunt reply.

"Well then, how do you know when he'll be back?" Claire asked, growing worried.

"I don't..." he repeated. He looked at Chelsea, who was reading one of the signs on the wall. "Being bad feels pretty good, huh?"

"Only when you do it right." Chelsea smirked.

Brian hung back several feet to talk to Andrew. "What's the point in going to Bender's locker?"

"Beats me..." Andrew said.

"This is so stupid...Why are we risking getting caught?"

"I dunno..."

"So then what are we doing?"

"You ask me one more question and I'm beating the shit out of you!" Andrew told Brian forcefully. Brian stopped for a split second before apologizing. They walked around for another few minutes before stopping at a locker that someone, assumedly Bender, had scrawled on: 'OPEN THIS LOCKER AND YOU DIE FAG!'

When Bender opened the locker a home-made guillotine fell and sliced the toe off a tennis shoe inside. He pulled a giant paper bag from the top that he then peeled away several other layers of paper bags to reveal a hand sized packet. Chelsea's eyes widened when she realized what it was.

"Slob," Andrew under toned.

"My maids on vacation," Bender retorted.

"Drugs!" Brian exclaimed.

"Thanks for clearing that up Brian," Chelsea teased, nudging the nerd.

"Screw that Bender!" Andrew said. "Put them back!" Chelsea followed Bender as he continued down the hall. There was a moment's argument about where to go, but the students quickly followed Benders directions. Until they passed a hallway that Vernon was moving down. Everybody ran. How hard would it be to lose one man in a building this big? But they were running up and down hallways, and flights of stairs. They almost ran into him, and Chelsea tried to turn so quickly that she slipped, slamming her chin into the linoleum floor. She pushed herself up quickly and kept running, wincing at the bruise that would form. When they reached a point where they hadn't run into Vernon in the last five seconds, Andrew decided to change plans. He wanted everyone to move through the activities hall. Chelsea was going to follow Bender through the cafeteria, until he followed Andrew.

Everything seemed to be going fine, until they hit an iron gate that blocked off the activities hall. "Shit!" Andrew yelled, slamming his hands against the fence.

"Great idea jackoff!" Bender screamed at him.

"Fuck you!" Andrew yelled. Everyone was getting scared. They were going to be caught any minute.

"Fuck you! Why didn't you listen to John?" Claire screamed at Andrew.

"We're dead!" Brian moaned.

Bender looked at Chelsea's face. "No, just me!"

"What do you mean?" asked Brian.

"Get back to the library, keep your unit on this!" Bender shoved his bag of marijuana into Brian's underwear. Bender glanced at Chelsea before running away singing loudly. "I wanna' be an airborne ranger..." he disappeared down the hall. Everyone stared at him, at each other, and then sprinted back to the library.

Chelsea sat down cautiously and looked at the other students. They were all relieved to be back, but there was an air of anxiety that was almost palpable.

"Get your stuff, let's go!" Vernon came into the library, pushing John ahead of him. He had his hands on the back of head as if he was being arrested. John went to his seat and moved his jacket before sitting down. "Mr. Wiseguy here has taken it upon himself to go to the gymnasium. I'm sorry to inform you, you're going to be without his services for the rest of the day."

"B-O-O H-O-O!" John spelt out.

"Everything's a big joke, huh Bender? The false alarm you pulled Friday, false alarms are really funny, aren't they..." Vernon started to try and lecture him. Chelsea sighed and shook her head, was that what he was in for? Claire already told her that she was in here for, even if Andrew wouldn't. "What if your home, what if your family..." Vernon continued, but couldn't think of something that John cared about enough. "...what if your dope was on fire?"

"Impossible sir," John deadpanned. "It's in Johnson's underwear."

'Isn't that the point?' Chelsea wondered, staring at the insane Principal.

Andrew snickered. Vernon saw him, "You think he's funny? You think this is cute? You think he's bitchin', is that it? Lemme tell you something. Look at him, he's a bum. You wanna see something funny? You go visit John Bender in five years! You'll see how God damned funny he is!" He walked over to John who was barely masking his aggravation, and bent over to his eye level. "What's the matter, John? You gonna cry? Let's go..." He grabbed John's arm to pull him up, but John swatted him away.

"Hey keep your fuckin' hands off me! I expect better manners from you, Dick!" He pushed past Principal Vernon and moved up the aisle. Pausing next to Andrew, he fished his glasses out of his shirt pocket and placed them on the table. "For better hallway vision." John walked out to the library, pushing stuff off the front desk as he passed it, and making sure that the door shut in Vernon's face.

Chelsea stared at the other teens who were all shocked. If Chelsea's mother was still alive, or she had a more present father, she would have reported Principal Vernon as soon as she got home. Everybody stared at the door. They slowly moved to eat their lunches. Eventually everyone else began to relax, except Chelsea. She was worried about what Vernon might do if he snapped. She grabbed her lunch and sat on the stairwell. Sighing, she stared at her food before digging in when her stomach growled.

A few minutes later she heard something moving in the ceiling. Chelsea looked up, onto to find the ceiling falling on her. "Oh shit!" She screamed at the same time a male voice said the same thing. Rolling out of the way, she barely missed plaster falling on her seat, and squashing her lunch into oblivion. She fell down the stairs, and found John falling on top of her. They stared into the others eyes for a second. John murmured, "Now this," He leaned in a little. "I could get used to."

Chelsea laughed and pushed him away gently, her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. "Slow down, lover boy," She stood up and delicately brushed herself off, firmly adjusting her shirt. "I hardly know you." Starting down the stairs, she was surprised when John followed a few steps behind her. She sat down, ignoring the looks of her classmates.

"I forgot my pencil." He shrugged to the others like nothing happened. Vernon was heard storming down the hall and John jumped over Chelsea's desk, and hid next to her legs.

Vernon burst in the library, "What in God's name is going on in here?" Everybody shrugged wordlessly. "What was that ruckus?"

"What ruckus?" Andrew asked.

"I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus," Vernon told us. He was much less angry now that he couldn't see John. "What the hell happened to your face?"

Chelsea froze and touched her chin lightly, wincing at the bruise. "I dropped my pencil under my desk. Hit my chin picking it up."

"Could you describe the ruckus?" Brian asked him, interrupting her lie.

"Watch your tongue young man! Watch it!" Okay, maybe Vernon was still off his kilter. Chelsea could feel John moving under the table, and heard his head bang against the top. She hit her hands on the table, not realizing that he would respond. Andrew hit his own table and Allison slammed her feet on the floor. "What is that? What is that, what is that noise?"

"What noise?" Andrew asked, referring to the earlier crash.

"Really sir, there wasn't any noise," Claire told him.

John's hand slid up the inside of Chelsea's leg, slowly; her back stiffened. His other hand slid up as well, and began to massage her thighs through her skin tight jeans. The pad of one thumb brushed against her inseam, ever so softly. And she felt warm fingers, unzipping her jeans. Chelsea's face flushed and she kicked under the table several times. "Sorry, sir," She apologized to Vernon. "I thought I felt a bug on my leg. That happened earlier. Was that the ruckus you heard?"

"No, it wasn't. That was not the noise I was talking about. Now, I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will." Vernon said. Allison chuckled at that. Vernon jabbed a finger at her before addressing Chelsea. "You make book on that Missy! And you! I will not be made a fool of!" He turned around to leave and everyone saw a toilet seat cover sticking out of the top of his pants. When the door shut everyone began to laugh except Chelsea. She pulled John out from under the table and slapped his across the face.

"It was an accident." He told her.

"Isn't it always?" She hissed, daring the tears to fall, discreetly zipping back up.

"So sue me," he muttered before standing up. He walked over to Brian, who had invaded his seat. "So, Ahab. Kybo Mein Doobage?" Brian reached carefully into his jeans and pulled out the bag. John took it daintily, not touching more than he had to.

"Yo wasteoid!" Andrew hissed. "You're not gonna blaze up in here!" Bender didn't even glance at Andrew as he moved to the back of the library. He didn't look back. Claire stared at the table for a moment before looking at Andrew. He shook his head, and she stared back at the table. A moment later she followed John, with Brian on her tail. Andrew sat for a moment. "Shit," he muttered before pushing off the table. He stood up, glanced at Allison before he followed the group.

Chelsea started to walk back, but paused next to Allison's desk. She looked at the dark teenager, who glared at the new kid. Nervously whistling, Chelsea kept moving. As she walked by John, she let her fingers trail lightly over her back, before she sat next to him. Which pushed Claire away from John and closer to Brian, coincidentally. John was rolling out joints for everybody. Andrew took several and locked himself in the computer room. She took the joint that was given to her, and gently rolled it between her fingers.

John lit a cigarette on his chin and lit everyone's joint. Chelsea carefully inhaled; savoring the feeling it gave her, trying to focus on her positive emotions. Otherwise she was going to have an awful trip. She coughed violently, and then smiled, a pleasant feeling washing over her and carrying her up to the sky. She felt the heat of the sun on her face, and sighed.


	12. Just A Smoke

After another joint, Brian was wearing John's glasses, adjusting them like he was a big stud. He collapsed into a fit of laughter and banged his feet on the floor. John and Chelsea laughed with him and at him a little. Claire wasn't really smoking yet, just holding the smoke in her mouth. John struck a match on his teeth and lit Claire's joint again, leaning over Chelsea to do so. She tried to inhale that time, and coughed. Chelsea smirked at her. She grabbed the collar of John's shirt with one hand and pulled his ear to her mouth. "What a cherry." She whispered. Letting him go, she watched his face as he started to laugh.

Claire took another drag, and felt it that time. She acted like the joint was a cigarette, holding it like a debutante might. Brian exhaled more smoke and tried to eat it back up. John looked at Chelsea, and they both started to laugh. He began to speak in a strange voice, "Chicks, cannot hold der smoke! That's what it is!" Chelsea started to laugh harder, almost falling off the couch.

Claire jumped in. "Do you know how popular I am? I'm so popular, everybody loves me so much, at this school..." She put a hand on her chest, acting like the queen bee. Which she was. John looked at Chelsea and mouthed, "Poor baby."

Brian waved his hand over to John, holding it up as if expecting a high five. John reached out and smacked Brian's hand. The force pushed him over his seat and Chelsea and Claire began to laugh, clutching at each other. The door to the computer lab opened and a plume of smoke floated out. Andrew strode out and began to dance, ripping off his sweatshirt and sweater, leaving him in a blue wife beater. He ran, danced, and did cartwheels around the upper level of the library. Brian wolf-whistled at the jock and Chelsea cheered. When he came back to the lab, Andrew slammed the door shut and yelled so loud that the glass shattered.

Chelsea laughed so hard that she did fall out of her seat. Sighing, she held onto her face gently with a small groan. Standing up, she ran her fingers through her hair and moved to some benches several feet away. John grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her back until their noses were bumping. Chelsea stared at him for a moment before leaning her face in, and gently kissing him at the point where his jaw line melted into his neck. Feeling Bender smile, she pulled back and smirked at him before gently extracting her wrist, and moving to a couch further away. Andrew ran over and vaulted over Chelsea who shrieked before laughing again. He sat on the couch next to Chelsea's and Brian came over, sitting opposite Andrew.

Chelsea began to rub her face gently, trying to focus as Brian and Andrew talked. Andrew was laughing. "No, no man! You got a middle name?" Brian was trying to make him guess before Allison jumped in.

"Your middle name is Ralph, as in puke..." Chelsea looked up at the sound of Allison's voice, and sat up straighter, feeling her head clear. Brian and Andrew looked at her in confusion. "Your birthday is March 12th, you're five-nine and a half, you weigh a hundred and thirty pounds and your social security number is 04938091…" She sat down, clutching her purse to her chest as if it was a lifeline. "Three."

"Woah," Andrew said, clearly impressed. "Are you psychic?"

"No..." Allison drawled. There was a smile in her eyes, she loved the attention.

Brian leaned in, "Would you mind telling me how you know all this about me?"

Allison put her bag on her lap and reached into her jacket. Pulling out a leather wallet she smiled, "I stole your wallet..." Chelsea smiled. Allison glanced at her and Chelsea knew that if she was still sky high, she would've fallen on the floor again.

"Give it to me..." Brian told her. "Give it!" Allison reluctantly handed over the wallet and Brian glanced through it to make sure nothing is missing. "This is great...you're a thief too! Huh?"

"I'm not a thief!" Allison protested.

"Multi-talented!" Brian shot.

Allison bit her lip, smiling. She shot a look at Brian. "What's there to steal? Two bucks and a beaver shot?"

There was a pause before Andrew straightened up. "A what?"

"He's got a nudie picture in there! I saw it, it's perverted!" Allison told him.

"Alright, let's see it!" Andrew said. Chelsea looked at Allison and sighed. Love was hard. She sat up and brushed her hair out with her fingers while Andrew teased Brian over the awful picture. She looked back at John and saw him brushing his teeth with Claire's eyebrow brush. He had her make-up laid out on a table and seemed to be sampling everything. She smiled. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Andrew was flipping through the rest of Brian's wallet. "This is the worst fake ID I've ever seen..." Brian laughed. "Do you realize you made yourself sixty eight?"

Brian laughed even harder. "Oh, I know...I know, I goofed it..."

"What do you need a fake ID for?" Andrew asked. Everyone knew that the brain was obviously not buying alcohol, porn, or cigarettes. Nor was he sneaking into clubs on the weekends.

"So I can vote!" Brian responded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"You wanna see what's in my bag?" Allison was rocking back and forth.

Brian and Andrew paused for a second then held up their hands and saying simultaneously, "No!" Chelsea gave an apologetic smile and shook her head.

Allison looked hurt and then resentful. Just to spite them, she dumped the contents of her bag onto the couch. A record, change of clothes, bottle of pills, and tampons galore along with other assorted items came pouring out.

"Holy shit!" Andrew muttered under his breath. "What is all that stuff?"

Allison shook off any remaining items stuck on the strap of her bag. "Do you always carry this much shit in your bag?" Brian asked, picking up a tampon. Chelsea giggled. He had no idea what he was holding onto.

"Yeah..." Allison drawled. "I always carry this much shit ...in my bag...You never know when you may have to jam..."

"Are you gonna be like a shopping bag lady? You know like, sit in alleyways and like talk to buildings and wear men's shoes and that kinda thing?" Brian asked.

"Shut up Brian!" Chelsea hissed smacking his arm. That was not the kind of thing you said to a girl like Allison.

"I'll do what I have to do..." Was Allison's reply.

"Why do you have to do anything?" Brian asked.

"My home life is un..." Allison paused, struggling with the weight of her next words. "satisfying..." Chelsea felt her heart break a little.

"So you're saying you'd subject yourself to the violent dangers of the Chicago streets because your home-life is unsatisfying?" Brian was shocked.

"I don't have to run away and live in the street...I can run away and, go to the ocean, I can go to the country, I can go to the mountains. I can go to Israel, Africa, Afghanistan..." Allison expressed fervently. She had obviously thought this all out, spent hours on end dreaming about her great escape.

Brian looked at her and then moved over to Andrew. He wanted some help on this, knowing that Chelsea would probably just hug the basket case. "Andy...you wanna get in on this? Allison here says, she wants to run away, because her home life is unsatisfying..."

Andrew pressed the wallet to his chest and thought a moment before looking at Allison. "Well everyone's home life is unsatisfying... If it wasn't, people would live with there parents forever..."

"Yeah, yeah I understand." Brian said. He started to gesture with his hands. Chelsea did want to hug Allison, but was afraid that it might only infuriate her. "But I think that hers goes beyond, you know, what guys like you and me... consider normal unsatisfying..."

"Never mind...forget it, everything's cool!" Allison butted in. She started to shove everything back into her purse violently.

"No it isn't!" Chelsea grabbed onto Allison's hand. "We need to talk about this." Allison jerked away from her, and continued to pack her bag. Chelsea sunk back into the couch.

Andrew leaned forward, Brian's wallet dangling from his fingertips. "What's the deal?"

"No! There's no deal, Sporto. Forget it, leave me alone." Allison looked at Andrew and spat the words out at him.

"Wait a minute, now you're carrying all that crap around in your purse.," Andrew started to go psychoanalyst on her. "Either you really wanna run away or you want people to think you wanna run away."

Allison leaned in and spat, "Eat shit!" She got up and walked away; leaving her bag half packed on the bench.

"The girl is an island, with herself. Okay?" Brian told the athlete. Andrew got up and went after her. Chelsea watched the two of them arguing and talking with a smile on her face.

Brian started to sort through and finish packing Allison's bag. Chelsea grabbed John's switchblade out of the mess before kicking Brian's chair gently. She gestured to the skinny boy. The two of them walked over to Claire and John, Chelsea grabbing her hat along the way. Claire was flipping through a wallet filled with pictures of girls, and John was still primping in her compact. Chelsea sat on the floor, leaning against the bookshelf, her legs stretched out. Brian leaned up against a chair opposite of Chelsea. John and Claire joined them after a moment, leaning against opposing pillars.


	13. Twisting Words

"Why are we here?" Brian asked.

"Because all of you decided to follow me here," Chelsea said in a sing-song voice. "And, just in case you haven't noticed, we're bouncing off the walls. So, we're gonna get caught screwing up eventually."

"Listen to your mother kids," Bender lectured. Chelsea slapped an arm in his direction. He winced and rubbed his arm, pretending to feel the hit. Chelsea grinned at him.

"I am not going to be here next week too," Claire declared.

"Unless you decide to have another shopping spree," Chelsea said in a serious tone. She laughed at the outraged look on Claire's face, until Claire reached the conclusion that it was all in good fun and joined in too. Everyone laughed at the red head, until the jock approached. Andrew strode over to the gang, sitting next to Brian. Allison followed him closely and curled up between two chairs a few feet away from him. They sat in silence for a moment, and it was killing Chelsea. John turned to her.

"Newbie?" he asked cordially.

"Jailbird?" Chelsea replied in the same tone.

"Do you swear?"

Chelsea cocked her head to the side, and blinked a few times before realizing that she hadn't sworn all day. "…Fuck." She said simply. John smiled and leaned back. Chelsea turned to Andrew. "Hey, Sporto?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you do for a million bucks?"

"What?" Andrew asked her. Everyone was staring at Chelsea confused, but Brian smiled.

"Yeah," He joined in. "What would you do for a million dollars?"

"What would I do for a million bucks?" Andrew repeated, holding onto his chain necklace. "Well, I guess I'd do as little as I had to..."

"That's boring..." Claire told him

"Well, how'm I s'posed to answer?" Andrew asked.

"The idea is to like search your mind for the absolute limit." Claire told him. John was staring absently at Chelsea, so she looked over to Andrew instead. "Like, uh, would you drive to school naked?"

Andrew laughed. "Um, uh...would I have to get out of the car?"

"Of course..."

"In the spring, or winter?"

"It doesn't matter...spring..."

"No, winter." Chelsea jumped in. It was her question and they were talking about a million dollars. "Has to be winter."

"In front of the school or in back of the school?" Andrew asked her.

"Either one..." Claire answered.

"Yes." Andrew replied, almost instantly. Claire was shocked and it showed.

"I'd do that!" Allison jumped in. Everyone except John looked at her. "I'll do anything sexual, I don't need a million dollars to do it either..."

"You're lying..." Claire rolled her eyes.

"I already have..." Allison declared. "I've done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal...I'm a nymphomaniac!" Andrew sat a little straighter. Claire rolled her eyes again.

"Lie..." Claire declared in response. John's stare darted to Claire, focused now.

"Don't underestimate her…" Chelsea warned.

"Are your parents aware of this?" Brian asked.

Allison looked down. "The only person I told was my shrink..."

"And what'd he do when you told him?" Andrew asked, genuinely worried.

Allison slowly turned her gaze to him and drawled, "He nailed me..."

Andrew looked away uncomfortably. Brian was dumbstruck and Claire still wouldn't fall for it. "Very nice..."

"I don't think that from a legal standpoint what he did can be construed as rape since I paid him." Allison was carefully constructing her words and it clicked for Chelsea. She gave Allison a wicked smile that made Brian look alarmed.

"He's an adult!" Claire reminded the dark teen.

Allison was relishing the attention. "Yeah...he's married too!"

Claire groaned. Chelsea asked, in a very teasing way, "Allison, what are we going to do with you?"

"Do you have any idea how completely gross that is?" Claire asked.

"Well, the first few times-"

"First few times?" Claire jumped in, cutting Allison off. "You mean he did it more than once?"

"Sure..."

"Are you crazy?"

"Obviously she's crazy if she's screwing her shrink..." Brian added.

"Have you ever done it? Allison asked Claire.

Claire pursed her lips. She tried to be nonchalant and shrug off the question, answering the wording and not the question itself. "I don't even have a psychiatrist."

"Have you ever done it with a normal person?" Allison asked Claire, very seriously.

"Now, didn't we already cover this?" Claire asked like any other question. She tried to play down the significance of it, which only peaked everyone's interest.

"You never answered the question..." John answered. He and Allison were both staring Claire down. Chelsea had a wicked grin on her face that she hid behind her fingers.

Claire put her hand on her chest. "Look, I'm not gonna discuss my private life with total strangers."

"It's kind of a double-edged sword, isn't it?" Allison asked.

"A what?"

"Well, if you say you haven't... you're a prude. If you say you have...you're a slut! It's a trap. You want to but you can't but when you do you wish you didn't, right?"

"Wrong..."

"You know it's the truth. We're strangled by it," Chelsea murmured under her breath staring at the sandy carpet. She saw a mother holding two children, but the image faded when she blinked. She shook her head and looked back up.

"Or, are you a tease?" Allison asked. Claire closed her mouth.

"She's a tease..." Andrew chimed in.

"Oh why don't you just forget it...?" Claire practically pleaded.

"You're a tease and you know it, all girls are teases!" Andrew retorted.

John stared at Chelsea, but spoke to Andrew. "She's only a tease if what she does gets you hot..."

"I don't do anything!" Claire protested.

"That's why you're a tease..." Allison told the princess.

"Okay, lemme ask you a few questions," Claire tried to yank the tables around onto Allison, who grew defensive.

"I've already told you everything!" She replied with a smile.

"No! Doesn't it bother you to sleep around without being in love? I mean don't you want any respect?" Claire asked the pale teen.

"I don't screw to get respect..." Allison's gaze turned dark, and Chelsea wondered if she really had the girl figured out. "That's the difference between you and me..."

"Not the only difference, I hope." Claire muttered and looked away.

"Face it, you're a tease." John told her.

"I'm not a tease!"

"Sure you are! You said it yourself sex is a weapon, you use it to get respect!"

"No, I never said that, she twisted my words around." Claire gestured with her hands, trying to shift the accusations away. Chelsea was reminded about John's earlier conversation with Brian, and wondered if that's why he wasn't chiming in.

"Oh then what do you use it for?" Bender asked.

"I don't use it period!" Claire was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, are you medically frigid or is it psychological?"

Claire was screaming on the inside. She was shaking in her boots and looked around as if she was trying to find the quickest way out. "I didn't mean it that way! You guys are putting words into my mouth!"

"Well if you'd just answer the question..." John said.

Brian finally got involved. He understood why she didn't want to talk, but knew that it was best to just get it over with. "Why don't you just answer the question?"

"Be honest..." Andrew told Claire.

"No big deal..." John told her. All of the boys started to talk over one another, trying to weasel the truth out of her.

But Claire silenced all of them by screaming. "No! I never did it!"

There was a long pause before Allison spoke. "I never did it either, I'm not a nymphomaniac...I'm a compulsive liar..."

Brian's jaw hit the floor and he stared at Allison in shock. "You are such a bitch!" Claire seethed. "You did that on purpose just to fuck me over! You never even asked her!"

"That's because I wouldn't dodge the question." Chelsea said in a factual tone.

"Well are you?" Claire spat. Chelsea lost any respect for the prep with that single question. As if she hadn't made it obvious by that point.

"You really are a bitch," She murmured, half surprised. "Yeah, I'm a virgin. So what?"

"I would do it though..." Allison interrupted. "If you love someone it's okay..."

Andrew looked at Allison and slowly blinked. Chelsea stared at the carpet again and though of John murmuring, "And if you know they love you too…"

"I can't believe you, you're so weird. You don't say anything all day and then when you open your mouth...you unload all these tremendous lies all over me!" Claire's pretty face turned ugly and Chelsea wondered where the beautiful girl she saw that morning went.

"You're just pissed-off because she got you to admit something you didn't want to admit to..." Andrew told her.

"Okay, fine, but that doesn't make it any less bizarre," Claire tried to defend herself.

"What's bizarre? I mean we're all pretty bizarre! Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all." Andrew responded lightly, but everyone felt the weight of his words.

"How are you bizarre?" Claire asked him after a moment.

Andrew was silent for a second and Allison decided to field that question. "He can't think for himself..."

Andrew nodded. "She's right...do you guys know what, uh, what I did to get in here? I taped Larry Lester's buns together." There was a small smile on his face and a light laugh slipped out of his mouth, but there was an incredible guilt behind his words.

Claire laughed.

"That was you?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Yeah, I know him..."

"Well then you know how hairy he is, right?" Andrew asked. A chuckle bubbled up John's throat and Chelsea felt the sudden urge to kiss it. "Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some, some skin too..."

"Oh my God..." Claire muttered.

Andrew started to tell everyone what happened earlier that week. "And the bizarre thing is, is that I did it for my old man...I tortured this poor kid, because I wanted him to think that I was cool. He's always going off about, you know, when he was in school...all the wild things he used to do. And I got the feeling that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right...So, I'm...I'm sitting in the locker room, and I'm taping up my knee. And Larry's undressing a couple lockers down from me. And...he's kinda... he's kinda skinny, weak. And I started thinking about my father, and his attitude about weakness. And the next thing I knew, I uh, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him...And my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards, when I was sittin' in Vernon's office, all I could think about was Larry's father. And Larry havin' to go home and...and explain what happened to him. And the humiliation...fucking humiliation he mustuv felt. It mustuv been unreal...I mean," tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes."

"I mean, how do you apologize for something like that? There's no way...it's all because of me and my old man. Oh God, I fucking hate him! He's like this...he's like this mindless machine that I can't even relate to anymore..."Andrew, you've got to be number one! I won't tolerate any losers in this family...Your intensity is for shit! Win. Win! WIN!" You son of a bitch! You know, sometimes, I wish my knee would give...and I wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore. And he could forget all about me..."

Brian had his face hidden behind one of his hands and Allison was on the verge of tears. John was silent, pensive for the first time that day. Chelsea was twisting a corner of her purple shirt, biting back tears.

"I think your old man and my old man should get together and go bowling." John told Andrew. He laughed briefly at the comment.

"It's like me, you know, with my grades..." Brian said silently. His voice grew stronger and yet more fragile as he continued to talk. "Like, when I, when I step outside myself kinda, and when I, when I look in at myself you know? And I see me and I don't like what I see, I really don't."

"What's wrong with you?" Claire asked him, like she would ask a child. "Why don't you like yourself?"

"'Cause I'm stupid...'cause I'm failing shop." John shot a look to Brian with disbelief on his face. "See we had this assignment, to make this ceramic elephant, and um...and we had eight weeks to do it and we're s'posed ta, and it was like a lamp, and when you pull the trunk the light was s'posed to go on...my light didn't go on, I got a F on it. Never got a F in my life... When I signed up, you know, for the course I mean. I thought I was playing it real smart, you know. 'Cause I thought, I'll take shop, it'll be such an easy way to maintain my grade point average..."

Bender was looking away from Brian now, insulted by his words. "Why'd you think it'd be easy?"

"Have you seen some of the dopes that take shop?" Brian asked, forgetting who he was talking to.

"I take shop...you must be a fuckin' idiot!" John spat.

"I'm a fuckin' idiot because I can't make a lamp?" Brian asked.

"No, you're a genius because you can't make a lamp..." John said sarcastically.

"What do you know about Trigonometry?"

"I could care less about Trigonometry..."

"Bender, did you know without Trigonometry there'd be no engineering?"

"Without lamps, there'd be no light!"

"Okay so neither one of you is any better than the other one..." Claire jumped in.

Allison jumped in, knowing that John was going to kill Brian if they kept arguing. "I can write with my toes! I can also eat, brush my teeth..."

"With your feet?" Claire asked in disbelief. Chelsea stared at Allison in shock, but not because of the fact that she was ambidextrous. Because of the brilliance Allison possessed.

"...play Heart & Soul on the piano," Allison continued.

"I can make spaghetti!" Brian said.

There was a slight pause and Chelsea wracked her brains for something she could contribute, to keep this going. "I can stitch a cut and set a bone."

"What can you do?" Claire asked Andrew.

"I can...uh...tape all your buns together." Andrew said with a brilliant smile.

"I wanna see what Claire can do!" John said.

"I can't do anything." Claire said.

"Cause we all know what you can do…" Chelsea told John, a smile on her face.

"Now see, everybody can do something..." Bender said encouragingly.

"There's one thing I can do, no forget it, its way too embarrassing." Claire looked away, smiling.

"You ever seen Wild Kingdom? I mean that guy's been doing that show for thirty years." Bender retorted.

"Okay, but you have to swear to God you won't laugh..." Claire pulled out a tube of lipstick. Bender made the sign of the cross. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this..." Claire took the lipstick tube and opened it. She placed it between her breasts and lowered her head, blocking her face from view. When she lifted her head, her lipstick was perfectly applied. Everyone clapped, laughing a bit in surprise. Bender's clap was sarcastic and slow.

"All right, great! Where'd you learn to do that?" Andrew asked her.

"Camp, seventh grade..." Claire was happy that no one teased her for it. Chelsea gave her a smile and nodded her head in congratulations.

"That was great, Claire..." John said, his claps slowing to a stop. "My image of you is totally blown..."

"You're a shit!" Allison told him. Claire wiped the lipstick off, her moment of glory gone. "Don't do that to her, you swore to God you wouldn't laugh!"

"Am I laughing?" John asked seriously.

"You fucking prick!" Andrew spat at him.

Bender turned to Andrew. As he spoke, his words hit home, making Andrew uncomfortable. "What do you care what I think, anyway? I don't even count, right? I could disappear forever and it wouldn't make any difference...I may as well not even exist at this school, remember?" He turned his head back to Claire and drawled. "And you...don't like me anyway!"

"You know, I have just as many feelings as you do and it hurts just as much when somebody steps all over them!" Claire was holding back tears.

"God, you're so pathetic!" John started to grow furious. Chelsea pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them tightly. "Don't you ever...ever! Compare yourself to me! Okay? You got everything, and I got shit! Fuckin' Rapunzel, right? School would probably fucking shut down if you didn't show up! 'Queenie isn't here!'" He noticed Claire's diamond earrings and smirked. "I like those earrings Claire."

"Shut up..." She murmured quietly.

"Are those real diamonds, Claire?" He asked her, his voice growing louder.

"Shut up!" She was looking away from him, tears threatening to pour.

"I bet they are...Did you work for the money for those earrings?"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Or did your daddy buy those?"

"Shut up!" Claire screamed.

"I bet he bought those for you! I bet those are a Christmas gift! Right? You know what I got for Christmas this year? It was a banner fuckin' year at the old Bender family! I got a carton of cigarettes." Bender grabbed the neck of his shirt and started tuggin it, as if someone was pulling him up. "The old man grabbed me and said "Hey! Smoke up Johnny!" Okay, so go home'n cry to your daddy, don't cry here, okay?"

There was a moment of silence and Chelsea stared at floor again. Nobody was looking in the others eyes. "My God, are we gonna be like our parents?" Andrew asked.

"Not me..." Claire said, a solitary tear trailing down her cheek. She looked at John, who stared back. "Ever..." John nodded at her, as if that's what he was trying to do. Make sure that she never ended up like her parents.

"It's unavoidable," Allison murmured. Everybody looked at her. "It just happens."

"What happens?" Claire whispered.

"When you grow up, your heart dies." Allison murmured, pushing back her own tears.

"Well," Chelsea murmured. "Fuck that." Andrew raised an eyebrow at her language. She smiled at him prettily behind the tears and shrugged.

"Who cares?" Bender asked listlessly.

Allison was on the verge of tears herself. "I care..."


	14. In My Locker

"Um, I was just thinking, I mean. I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering, um, what is gonna happen to us on Monday? When we're all together again? I mean I consider you guys my friends, I'm not wrong, am I?" Brian asked.

"No..." Andrew reassured him.

"So, so on Monday...what happens?"

"Are we still friends, you mean? If we're friends now, that is?" Claire asked the scrawny boy, looking around at the group.

"Yeah..."

"Do you want the truth?"

"Yeah, I want the truth..."

"I don't think so..." Claire said, her eyes growing wet.

"Well, do you mean all of us or just John?" Allison asked.

"Yeah, because those should be two completely different answers," Chelsea added with a light tone, trying to diffuse the somber mood.

"With all of you..." Claire murmured before turning away.

"That's a real nice attitude, Claire!" Andrew told her.

"Oh, be honest, Andy...if Brian came walking up to you in the hall on Monday, what would you do? I mean picture this; you're there with all the sports. I know exactly what you'd do. You'd say hi to him and when he left you'd cut him all up so your friends wouldn't think you really liked him!" Claire sketched the picture.

Brian stared at Andrew expectantly, before the jock shifted uncomfortably, "No way."

"'Kay, what if I came up to you?" Allison asked.

"Same exact thing!" Claire said sadly.

John leaned forward suddenly and yelled at Claire, "You are a bitch!"

"Why? 'Cause I'm telling the truth, that makes me a bitch?" She responded sharply.

"No! 'Cause you know how shitty that is to do to someone! And you don't got the balls to stand up to your friends and tell 'em that you're gonna like who you wanna like!" John spat.

"Okay, what about you, you hypocrite? Why don't you take Allison to one of your heavy metal vomit parties?" Claire started ranting to John. Allison laughed nervously. "Or take Brian out to the parking lot at lunch to get high? What about Andy or Chelsea for that matter, what about me? What would your friends say if we were walking down the hall together? They'd laugh their asses off and you'd probably tell them you were doing it with me so they'd forgive you for being seen with me."

John started jabbing an accusatory finger at Claire. "Don't you ever talk about my friends! You don't know any of my friends, you don't look at any of my friends and you certainly wouldn't condescend to speak to any of my friends so you just stick to the things you know, shopping, nail polish, your father's BMW and your poor-rich-drunk mother in the Caribbean!"

Claire started to cry and tried to kick John, "Shut up!"

"And as far as being concerned about what's gonna happen when you and I walk down the hallways at school, you can forget it! 'Cause it's never gonna happen! Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fuckin' prom!" John started to break Claire.

"I hate you!" Claire said with tears in her eyes.

"Yeah? Good!"

There was silence until Brian spoke up. "Then I assume Allison and I are better people than you guys, huh? Us weirdoes... Do you, would you do that to me?"

"I don't have any friends..." Allison told him honestly.

A tear trailed down Brian's face. "Well if you did?"

"No..." Allison smiled at him. "I don't think the kind of friends I'd have would mind..."

"What about you?" He asked Chelsea.

"Not possible," She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "You guys are the only friends I have here. I'm not dropping you like that."

"I just wanna tell, each of you, that I wouldn't do that...I wouldn't and I will not! 'Cause I think that's real shitty..." Brian expressed earnestly. Andrew was staring at Brian.

"Your friends wouldn't mind because they look up to us..." Claire interjected.

Brian laughed at her. "You're so conceited, Claire. You're so conceited. You're so, like, full of yourself, why are you like that?"

Claire was crying again, "I'm not saying that to be conceited! I hate it! I hate having to go along with everything my friends say!"

"Well then why do you do it?" Brian asked, furious.

"I don't know, I don't...you don't understand...you don't. You're not friends with the same kind of people that Andy and I are friends with! You know, you just don't understand the pressure that they can put on you!" Claire tried to explain to a boy that she thought knew nothing about pressure. He knew it even better than she did.

"Wanna know something Claire?" Chelsea asked suddenly, staring at the floor. She looked at Claire sharply. "I used to be just like you. School Princess. Never cheer captain, never prom queen, just me. I was nice to everyone from the moment I meet them, to the moment that they proved to me they didn't deserve it. I didn't go tearing people to shreds for talking to me in the fucking halls! So you know what, fuck you and your ideal little world that you need to act like such a fucking bitch to live in! Just- just- screw you."

"You think I don't understand pressure, Claire? Well fuck you! Fuck you!" Brian told Claire after he finally collected his thoughts. He hid his face in his arm as he started to cry. "Know why I'm here today? Do you? I'm here because Mr. Ryan found a gun in the locker..."

"Why'd you have a gun in your locker?" Andrew asked.

"I tried," Brian said, wiping his face. "You pull the fuckin' trunk on it and the light's s'posed to go on...and it didn't go on, I mean, I..."

"What's the gun for Brian?" Andrew asked.

"Just forget it..."

"You brought it up, man!"

"I can't have an F, I can't have it and I know my parents can't have it! Even if I aced the rest of the semester, I'm still only a B. And everything's ruined for me!"

"Oh Brian..." Claire murmured with pity in her voice.

Brian bashed the chair sitting next to him. He paused for a second, trying to bite back tears. "So I considered my options, you know?"

"No! Killing yourself is not an option!" Claire told him.

"Well I didn't do it, did I? No, I don't think so!" Brian told her.

"It was a hand gun?" Allison asked.

"No, it was a flare gun, went off in my locker."

Andrew started to laugh. "Really?"

"It's not funny..." Brian shot. Andrew tried to stop, but everyone started to join in after Brian joined in. "Yes it is...fuckin' elephant was destroyed!"

"You wanna know what I did to get in here?" Allison asked. She didn't wait for a response, "Nothing...I didn't have anything better to do…" It took a moment for the absurdity of that statement to sink in. The students bit their lips, trying to hold back laughter, which eventually bubbled over. "You're laughing at me..."

Andrew waved his hand dismissively. "No!" he told her.

Allison started to laugh too, "Yeah you are!"

Brian started gasping he was laughing so hard. But he started waving his arm and when he got his breath back he exclaimed. "Wait wait wait! We never heard why Chelsea was in here!"

"It's nothing that exciting…" Chelsea reassured him. Her story seemed so ordinary when compared to Andrew and Brian's.

"I'm here because I cut class to shop," Claire reminded her. "It has to be more exciting than that."

Chelsea shrugged. "I got caught coming to school late. That's it."

"Why?" Andrew asked, confused. He had seen her car before; he knew that she could drive. So how could she possibly be late?

Chelsea tugged on the sleeve of her shirt. "I drive my brothers to school in the morning." She almost stopped there, but realized that this was the only chance she had to tell everyone who she really was. "I've done it every day for the past two weeks I've lived here. This was just the first time I got caught. My dad, you see, he's been working a lot since my mom passed, so he can't spend a lot of time with my brothers. So, I do all the cooking and the cleaning and mend their clothes and tend their wounds." She caught the smile on Allison's face and smiled back shyly. "And even though my old teachers understood, Mr. Vernon thought I was just some delinquent trying to cut class. But, but I'm glad that I got shoved in here. I never would've figured out that we're all basket-cases." She started to laugh, and everyone joined in until they were on their sides, clutching at their stomachs.

Brian was the first one up. He said that he had a great idea and ran into the library office, where he threw a record on. Another song Chelsea didn't know. Everybody jumped up and started dancing, commandeering different parts of the library. Chelsea slipped off her shoes and hopped up on the bookshelf where John had been tearing up a copy of Moliere's play. Claire and Andrew were both on stairwells, and Brian was still in the office. John had managed to clamber his way up the statue in the back of the library and Allison was dancing in front of it.

Chelsea didn't worry about looking good, because no one else did. They were in the eighties. No one knew how to dance, and no one ever really would. She just let the music tug her hips, pull her feet and swing her head. As soon as she had gotten off, John and Allison took her place and started some synchronized dance that made her jealous. She wanted to jump up there and dance with John.

But instead, Allison leapt off. Brian and Andrew ran over, and all the boys danced together for a few seconds. Chelsea was dancing on a desk nearby. When the boys got down, Claire, Allison and Chelsea jumped up and danced together, laughing. Chelsea jumped from the bookshelf back to her desk, where she continued to dance. As the song died down Allison lowered herself to the floor until she was in an immobile heap. The music ended a few seconds later.

John came up to Chelsea and tugged on a lock of her hair, pulling her to him. He kissed her in front of all the other teens. Her face flushed but she kissed him back. John pulled away before she wanted him to, and with a smirk, ran to the spot where he fell into the library.


	15. One More Minute

Andrew, Allison, Chelsea, Claire and Brian were sitting on the railing at the back of the library. Everyone else was dreaming, but Claire was devising a plan.

"Brian?" Claire asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna write your paper?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's kinda a waste for all of us to write our paper, don't you think?"

"Oh, but that's what Vernon wants us to do..."

Claire looked down the railing at the other teens, who stared back, confused. "True, but I think we'd all kinda say the same thing."

"You just don't want to write your paper...Right?"

"True, but, you're the smartest, right?"

"Oh, well..." Brian trailed off, extremely proud.

"We trust you..." Claire assured him. Brian glanced over at the other teenagers who nodded in approval.

"Yeah..." Andrew said hesitatingly.

"Of course we do," Chelsea told the brain with a smile.

Brain grinned, "All right, I'll do it..."

"Great..." Claire grinned back. There was a moment of silence and Chelsea imagined Bender breaking it with some obnoxious quote, or offensive question. She had a hopeless crush on the guy. Then Chelsea thought, and then thought some more, not noticing the others return to their desks or the computer lab. Well, why couldn't he like her?

Chelsea walked out of the library, grabbing her backpack as she went. Andrew smirked at her, but she ignored him. She froze at the door for a second, and opened it a crack. Peeking through into the Principal's office, Chelsea saw that it was empty. Quietly slipping through the door, she ducked across the hall.

Where would he be? She checked other doors in the office, even his closet. But nothing was in there except a very Barry Manilow wardrobe. She couldn't believe that he kept spare suits in there. Chelsea bit her lip and walked back out of the office. She started to check other doors, hoping that he would be in one of the other rooms. All the other rooms were empty. Chelsea sighed as she walked by the teachers lounge.

Wait a second. She backtracked. Why were all the lights on? Then she noticed the overturned pot. John. She knew that Vernon wasn't nearby, wherever he might've been. But she made sure not to touch the door. Chelsea didn't want to tip Vernon off to the fact that she had been in there.

He would have to be locked up somewhere. Vernon wouldn't just shut him in somewhere and expect him to stay. Because that had worked so well in the library. She eyed the supply closet suspiciously. Only, how was she going to break him out?

Kneeling in front of the door, Chelsea rifled through her bag. Maybe she had a bobby pin or something. Emptying out her bag, something foreign and silver bounced out. John's switchblade. "That should work."

Now the only problem was, she had never picked a lock. Gently flipping the blade open, she slowly inserted it into the lock. She jiggled the blade slightly. Chelsea had no idea what she was doing. She looked around the room and something glinting on the top of the door caught her eye. Oh. The key. Shoving the switchblade into her pocket, Chelsea unlocked the door. Shouldering her bag she swung open the door and saw John Bender sitting on his jacket.

He gave her a priceless look of pure shock that she held onto and cradled close, vowing to never forget. He leaned his head back before asking, "You lost?" Chelsea stared at him for a moment before biting her lip and shaking her head. John smiled at her for a moment with a 'What am I going to do with this kid?' look on his face. Chelsea smiled back at him and inched closer.

"Nice place," Chelsea murmured, sitting against the door.

"Decorated it myself," John said with a smirk, waving his hand around. "Can't you tell?"

Chelsea laughed slightly and glanced at the scruffy teenage boy. He was still so young. As was she. But they had aged beyond their years, seeing and doing things that their classmates had not. She bit her lip.

"I don't trust you." She murmured quickly, feeling her ears grow hot.

"I don't trust me either," John replied with a smirk.

"And I don't understand why the hell I like you," She hissed. John cocked an eyebrow. "I swear, sometimes I just want to staple your lips shut."

"Ah, but what would be the fun in that? You would deprive the world of an upstanding piece of shit."

Chelsea edged closer, holding her breath. "You might have a point."

"Bookworm, I never have a point."

She carefully sat next to him. "You couldn't kiss me back," Chelsea whispered into his ear and brushed her lips against his neck. John turned to her.

"I thought you didn't trust me," He brushed one hand quickly through her hair.

"I don't," She agreed, laughing again. "But I'm in too deep."

John quickly leaned in and kissed her again. She tangled her fingers into his hair before her could pull away. So he plunged in deeper, twining one hand in her hair and placed the other on her leg. They kissed each other fervently, as though they would never have the chance to again.

Chelsea pulled away and kissed a line down John's throat, slipping her tongue over his pulse. She could feel a groan travel up his throat and gently nibbled. John's hand slid up to her hip, and he yanked Chelsea onto his lap. He tugged her shirt off roughly as she continued to kiss his neck, trailing to his collar bone.

One of John's hands cupped her breast and she gasped. Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she whimpered quietly as John started to massage, the other hand rubbing her leg. After a minute, she peeled off his flannel shirt and tugged off the undershirt. They pushed their bodies against one another, teeth clacking as their tongues fought each other. John bit Chelsea's lip and she hissed, raking a hand down his back.

John started to kiss her neck, murmuring nonsense words. A hand trailed up her back and started to tug on the clasp of her bra. "Wait!" Chelsea pushed him to arm length. John's hair was a mess, his lips slightly swollen.

Chelsea scooted back. She grabbed her shirt as John crawled forward.

"Have I found another tease?" He whispered gently, his eyes filled with something she didn't recognize. But it was so powerful that Chelsea lost her breath for a moment.

"John, stop it," Chelsea leaned back, pushing her back to the door. "I mean it."

"What, did I do something wrong?" He asked bitingly, leaving his shirts in a pile.

"No," Chelsea assured gently as she pulled her shirt back on. "No, I just- I can't do this. Not yet."

"When?" John asked, almost shouting.

"When I'm dammed good and ready!" Chelsea shouted back. She took a breath and brushed her hair back. "I like you John. A lot. But I don't have any protection. We're not ready for this, anyway."

"And when might we be ready?" He stretched toward her almost feline, lying on the floor in front of her. Chelsea noticed pale lines crisscrossing his back. They could be scars, from a car accident maybe. But she knew that it could have easily been from a belt or broken bottle or knife.

"I don't know," She breathed. "Soon. Just not today."

"Not today," John smirked and sat up, tugging on his undershirt. "Haven't heard that one before."

"I want to see you again," Chelsea blurted out. A heavy silence settled over the pair.

"You don't trust me," John mocked.

"Well I certainly don't trust you to be monogamous," Chelsea smirked. After another pause, she pressed forward. "What if it was open? We could go out whenever we wanted, but weren't stuck with each other."

John stared at her, his face blank.

"But, if you know someone's a bastard, you can give me some warning. I could do the same for you. Only, you probably know everyone here better than I ever will," Chelsea cracked some of her fingers nervously. "What do you think?"

"I think you're crazy," John deadpanned. "I mean, it's gonna be tough, trying not to jump your bones in the middle of the hall. But I think I'll be able to manage."

"Can you manage without me?" Chelsea whispered. John looked shocked, and she burst into laughter. "Don't give me that face! I just meant for the next hour, while I go back to the library."

"I can think of a few good reasons why you should stay here," John tugged the teen over to him, roughly kissing her. She moaned and sunk into his chest. After a few minutes they pulled away from each other, panting.

"I should go back," Chelsea whispered, kissing the shell of John's ear. "Vernon might come back any minute."

John pushed her onto the linoleum floor, kissing her neck. "One more minute," He growled, sending shivers down her spine.

Chelsea managed to push him away and sit up. "No," She said playfully. "If I don't leave now, you'll never get rid of me." Her hand rested on his chest, the pulse in her fingertips matching his heartbeat. Kissing him one last time, she stood up and opened the door. "Besides, we always have Monday."

Returning to the library, she found Allison and Andrew whispering to each other at the back of the library, leaning over a book. Allison had cleaned off most of her make-up, and was wearing a light colored shirt. Claire was leaning over Brian's desk, watching him write. She was smiling at him and they were laughing. Chelsea let the door slam behind her and watched as everyone stared at her. She adjusted her shirt nervously and sat in her first seat. Silently, she opened Pride and Prejudice and began writing an essay on how social class affected Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy's relationship.

A minute later Mr. Vernon came crashing into the room. "All right, get out of here! All of you, you're dismissed!" Everyone quickly grabbed their bags and jackets, but lingered inside the library. Things would never be the same once they left. "Now!" Vernon screamed, and everyone filed out. Chelsea saw John standing further down the hall and smiled at him. He grabbed her hand as she passed by. The six walked to the front door when they ran into Carl, sweeping the halls. Brian nodded at him.

"See ya Brian..." Carl leaned on the push broom.

"Hey Carl..." Brian responded, now with confidence.

"See you next Saturday..." John told him. Chelsea nodded.

"You bet!" Carl responded.

They exited the building, feeling the cool mid afternoon air bite at their skin. Andrew and Allison kissed, before she stole a patch from his jersey and left. Andrew's dad stared at them, but Andrew clambered into the truck without a word. Claire gave Brian a kiss on the cheek before whispering something to him. A heartbreaking expression pulled onto his face as Claire scurried into her father's BMW. Brian trudged solemnly to his own car. As the cars pulled out of the school parking lot, Chelsea looked at John. "Need a ride?"

John stared at the brunette for a moment. "Sure," he replied, as smile on his face as the pair tore out of the parking lot and around the football field.


	16. Dear Mr Vernon

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...

...and an athlete...

...and a basket case...

…and the new kid…

...a princess...

...and a criminal...

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

the Breakfast Club.


End file.
